Things I Never Knew
by youcantseeus
Summary: When Snape’s son comes to Hogwarts, Harry discovers secrets about his Potions Master that he never imagined and Snape learns a few things about Harry as well. NOT HBP COMPLIANT. Complete!
1. What I Deserve

**Hello all! I decided to write this Harry Potter fanfiction. I hope you like it and I always love reviews. I need a beta, if anyone wants to email me about the job. This is my first Harry Potter fic. Oh, the _italics_ are Harry's thoughts and the _italics with stars on the outside_ are articles in the _Daily Prophet_.**

**Story Summary: When Snape's son comes to Hogwarts, Harry discovers secrets about his Potions Master that he never imagined and Snape learns a few things about Harry as well. Or at least that's what it's going to be about, it may be a little hard to tell now.**

**Warnings: This fic is rated PG-13 for now and I will try to keep it that way, although it could go to R. If anyone thinks at any point that this fic should be rated R, then I would like it if you could inform me. I don't want to remove this. This fic will contain cutting, violence, mild language, mention (not description) of child abuse, incest and rape. You should also know that there is the slight possibility that it will contain slash, very far in the future. It's a very slight chance at this point, I don't think that it will happen, but I haven't ruled it out. This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5. This chapter contains cutting, violence, child abuse and maybe some language (I can't really remember).**

**Disclaimer: I did not invent Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling did. All credit to her, she's a genius. And I'm sure there are all kinds of people who have the rights to Harry Potter, but I really have no idea who they are. Ladeedaa. Please don't sue me.**

* * *

Chapter 1: What I Deserve

Harry Potter sat on his bed in his room at Number Four Privet drive and frowned down at the newspaper in his lap. He was truly grateful that his aunt, uncle and cousin had went to lounge about at a friend's pool for the day, leaving Harry to read his newspaper in relative peace. He had fully expected to be locked in his room when the Dursleys announced that they were going out, but instead, his Aunt Petunia had given him a long list of chores to complete commenting viciously that it would be a shame to waste such a lovely summer day doing housework.

Harry certainly felt less than sunny as read today's headline in the _Daily Prophet_.

_**Another Death Eater Raid Leaves 2 Dead** _

_The home of Richard Summers, 36- a well-respected muggleborn wizard and his wife, Gina Summers, 35- also a muggleborn, was targeted last night in what is believed to be yet another Death Eater raid. Mrs. Summers and her 3-year-old son Bryon were both killed. Mr. Summers was not at his home at the time having gone to pick up their 8-year-old daughter, Eliza from a friend's house. _

Harry stopped reading. _"Great," _he thought dully. _"Two more deaths because of Voldemort. Because I couldn't stop Voldemort." _

Harry couldn't bring himself to read all the grisly details of the Summers' murder. He knew what they would be anyway. He had read the same story over half a dozen times since the beginning of the summer. Always the same story, only the names were different. Some poor muggle or muggleborn was tortured, raped, killed by the Death Eaters, the Dark Mark glittering in the sky above. There would be few if any clues as to the identities of the ones responsible. Apparently Voldemort's lackeys were rather good at covering their tracks.

_"How could I have wanted news of Voldemort last summer?"_ Harry had assumed that with news would come action, that they could find out who those Death Eater's were and that then someone– the Ministry, Dumbledore,_ someone_, would be able to take care of Voldemort. _"But I'm the only one who can take care of Voldemort," _Harry thought bitterly, _"a bloody teenager. A silly little boy who loves to play hero. If I were doing my job then that woman and her son wouldn't have died last night."_

Harry breathed deeply and turned the paper over to search for any other stories that might be related to Voldemort. One caught his eye immediately.

_**Lucius Malfoy Escapes From Azkaban**_

_Lucius Malfoy, 41 escaped from Azkaban prison on Friday. Malfoy, who was awaiting trial on various charges, including being a Death Eater, was widely reported to have a number of contacts in wizarding governments throughout Europe. It is believed that one of these contacts helped him escape the infamously well guarded prison. Malfoy is said to be highly dangerous and should not be approached under any circumstances._

Harry stopped. _"Well happy birthday to me," _he thought bitterly. _"Two more deaths that only I could have prevented and Voldemort gets his most sadistic servant back. Wonderful way to turn sixteen."_ Harry put down his paper and looked down at his arms which were covered by the sleeves of his red turtleneck even in late July. He slowly rolled back his left sleeve and looked at a forearm riddled with cuts half in horror, half in longing.

Should he do it again? Would the physical pain make this horrible, dull pain in his heart go away? It had worked the other times, at least somewhat, but it was never enough. Harry always needed more, needed to cut again. _"No! I won't! I don't need it. I'm stronger than this."_

Harry blinked away tears and looked determinedly back down at the paper. He skimmed through the rest of the article about Malfoy until he came almost to the end. _"The jailbreak is only the second since Azkaban prison was opened in 1970, the first being the escape of the infamous murderer Sirius Black who is still at large," _Harry read to himself.

_"Sirius..."_

Harry flung the paper away from him. Sirius. That was the worst thing. That was what kept Harry from sleeping at night. Not only was his inability to do his to do his job costing a couple of people their lives nearly every week, but he was directly responsible for the death of the one person who had every tried to be a parent to him.

He had tried blaming Dumbledore– and indeed, some of the blame probably rested with the old coot. _"If I had known all the facts..." _Harry still held a lot of anger toward the headmaster whom he had once considered infallible, invincible, and completely trustworthy. He had even tried blaming Snape. After all, Snape _had_ goaded Sirius mercilessly. But when it came right down to it, the person that Harry really blamed for his godfather's death was himself. Harry Potter.

_"I'm the one who has to have a stupid scar on my forehead and a bloody link to Voldemort. I'm the one who thought that Occlumency wasn't worth my time. I'm the one who had so much confidence in my own abilities that I believed my visions to be truth. I'm the one who wanted to play hero, just like always. I'm the one who didn't try other ways of contacting Sirius. I'm the one that Sirius came after. Me. It's all my fault. I'm pathetic. Useless. A freak. I don't deserve to go to Hogwarts. I don't deserve to have a normal life or to be around normal people. Anyone who bothers to care about a freak like me will just end up dead like Sirius and my parents. Uncle Vernon is right about me."_

By now Harry had worked himself into tears and was rocking slowly back and forth. _"Oh God, make it stop! When will this all just go away?"_ Harry needed relief, release. Needed to feel the cool blade of his razor cutting into his flesh. Needed to see the rivulets of blood trickling down his arm or leg. Harry lifted himself up off the bed and stumbled over to his trunk. He lifted the lid and went for where he knew his razor was hidden, wedged between his school books. He pulled the razor out and stared at it with an expression of deep longing.

* * *

Four hours later Harry was slumped on his bed gently touching his freshly cleaned cuts. He was okay now, well sort of, he just felt very tired and empty. He glanced back down at his arm. What would people think if they knew that the Boy-Who-Lived was into self-mutilation? Harry sneered. _"I'd love to see the look on Dumbledore's face."_

But then Harry frowned slightly. What would Ron and Hermione say? His friends wouldn't understand, that much he was sure of. They would probably be horrified and then worried and they would probably try to tiptoe around his feelings, something they had been doing a lot of lately. Hermione might tell a teacher and Ron would just be totally confused. Would they think that he was suicidal? Harry had never really considered suicide, after all, he couldn't save the world if he was dead. But he knew that people who cut themselves often are suicidal, and he knew that if Ron and Hermione knew that they would both probably jump to that conclusion. _"I'll just have to make sure that they don't find out then."_

Harry was torn from his thoughts by the sound of loud footsteps in the hallway. _"Brilliant, the great walrus is back."_ He hastily rolled down his sleeve before Uncle Vernon flung the door open.

"Boy, have you been fiddling around up here all day when your aunt expressly left you a list of chores to do?"

"Yes, I guess that I have," Harry snapped back. Vernon moved closer threateningly. "You remember that I'll be writing to my "friends" again tomorrow, right Uncle Vernon?"

Vernon paled visibly, but held his ground. "And I suppose that we're not even allowed to give you chores now are we?" Well I wouldn't expect _your_ kind to know the value of hard work, but as long as you're living under our roof, boy, you will earn your keep. I won't be told how to run my own house, you ungrateful brat!"

Harry flushed and clenched his fist.

"You're just like your freak parents. Your father was a drunk and a womanizer, always running about with a different woman, he was. Served your mother right though"

"WHAT!" Harry jumped up.

"You heard me boy," said Vernon with a satisfied look on his face.

"You're lying!" But there was less conviction in Harry's voice than there would have been at this time last year. Harry wasn't sure _what_ to think of his father after witnessing him bully Snape in the pensieve last year. What if Vernon was telling the truth?

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME BOY!"

Vernon's face was very close to Harry's , but he almost immediately drew back in alarm. The lights in the room were flickering, a sure sign that Harry's magic was about to get out of control, as Vernon knew from experience.

_"No! I can't let this happen again! Another episode of underage magic and I'll be expelled for sure." _Harry slowly forced his magic back inside him. Uncle Vernon relaxed somewhat.

Harry still hadn't mastered his anger though. _"I may not be able to use magic, but I am going to kill Vernon Dursley!" _Harry threw a punch at his uncle, smiling in satisfaction as his fist connected with Vernon's nose. Before Vernon had a chance to recover, Harry lunged at him. Vernon Dursley, however, outweighed Harry by a good 250 pounds and was no shoddy fighter. Once he collected himself, he was able to knock Harry to the ground easily and kicked him in the ribs a few times for good measure.

"You little animal!" Aunt Petunia shrieked from the doorway. The noise had drawn her and Dudley to Harry's room. "Are you alright Vernon?"

"Fine dear, the little freak just up and attacked me." Uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed. "Boy, I think that I'll be writing to those "friends" of yours myself. I've had you endanger my family quite enough."

Teaser: Chapter 2

Harry blinked. "What? So you mean the protective bonds was reinforced two weeks ago and Dumbledore was just going to leave me here anyway? You were _all_ just going to leave me here anyway?"

Lupin sighed. "Harry, it's complicated. The bond does become stronger the longer you stay. And I'm sure that Dumbledore wants you to get along with your only family..."

"I'll _never _get along with them Remus!"

Okay, I know that the whole Harry cuts himself, Snape helps him thing has been done quite a bit. I just wanted to let you know that it's not going to be the main focus of this story. It'll be a part, yes, but there will be a lot more going on.


	2. Friends and Enemies

**A/N: Okay, believe it or not, I've actually been working very hard on Chapter 2. It is quite a bit longer than Chapter 1. I still need a beta. Anyone? Well, enjoy Chapter 2.**

**Warnings: Not much in this chapter. Some more angry, depressed, slightly dark Harry. Some brief references to cutting.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Friends and Enemies**

Harry's head was pounding. He was sitting in the Dursley's living room, listening to his relatives try to convince Alaster Moody, Kingsley Shaklebolt and Remus Lupin that he, Harry, was a dangerous freak. Needless to say, they were having a hard time of it. The Order members, of course, were on Harry's side. Still, he couldn't help feeling worn down after an hour of the Dursley's cruel words. Words that seemed to echo with malice in his head.

_"...little beast just attacked me..."_

_"...you people like him so much, you take him..."_

_"...after everything we've done for him..."_

_"...Mum, is he leaving soon..."_

_"...never wanted the little freak..."_

_"...we don't want him..."_

Harry buried his face in his hands. The Dursleys were giving him a major headache. They didn't even seem to be getting the veiled threats behind the looks that Moody was sending their way. They just prattled on and on.

"Harry," said Lupin suddenly, "I wonder if I might talk to you in the kitchen?"

"What for?" Vernon snapped, "I've already told you everything you need to know."

"I'd really like to talk to Harry, all the same, Mr. Dursley," Lupin replied politely.

Uncle Vernon's face went purple and he stood up and started shaking his finger at Lupin. "Now see here–"

"Dursley, you're already treading on thin ice," Moody growled, "don't push your luck any further." Uncle Vernon gulped and sat back down furiously. Harry knew that Vernon was actually terrified of Moody, even more so than of Harry's "escaped convict godfather" whom Harry had conveniently forgot to mention was dead. In fact, Vernon was probably even now regretting his decision to write (or rather to have Harry write) to the Order to tell them that he couldn't keep Harry anymore.

_"If he had been positive that it would be Moody who would show up, I bet he would have thought twice about that letter."_

"Sure," Harry said out loud, getting up and following the werewolf into the kitchen. He was truly glad to be getting away from the Dursleys, even if he knew that he was about to be interrogated. Harry found a seat at the kitchen table and waited.

"Well Harry, how about I make us a cup of tea while we talk this all over?"

Tea? TEA! Was the man bonkers? _"Honestly, why doesn't he just offer me a lemon drop while he's at it? Sometimes Lupin is as bad as Dumbledore."_

"Don't bother with the tea Remus," Harry said, stumbling over the werewolf's first name. But Remus _had_ told him to call him that last year. "Let's just get this over with."

"Oh, but surely you could use some time to collect your thoughts and a cup of tea would be–"

"I DON'T WANT ANY GOD DAMN TEA REMUS!"

Lupin raised his eyebrows at Harry's outburst, but sat down across from Harry.

"I'm sorry Remus. I just–I'm sorry."

"Not at all Harry," Remus folded his hands on the table. "Since you seem to want to get right down to it, why don't you tell me about this trouble you've been having with your relatives."

Harry shrugged. "The usual."

Remus frowned darkly. "The usual? That's an awful nasty bruise on your cheek..." he reached out to touch Harry's face, but Harry drew back in alarm.

"Yeah, whatever. Look, you heard my uncle. I attacked him. He was only defending himself."

_"Why am I defending Vernon Dursley?" _Harry thought bitterly, _"Let Lupin think that he beats me, it would at least get me out of here." _

But somehow, Harry didn't want Lupin or anyone to think that he was beaten. It was bad enough that they all knew that Harry's only living relatives despised him. Harry still felt ashamed when he thought of it, but when he was small, he had wanted the Dursleys to love him more than he wanted anything. They were his family. He had grown up with them. Part of him still wanted their love. Harry didn't think that he could stand the pitying looks that he would get if people thought that he was some kind of abused creature.

"Did he really need to hit you so hard though?" Lupin asked.

Harry snorted. "Probably not."

Lupin opened his mouth to say something else but Harry stopped him. "Listen to me Remus, I'm going to save you a lot of time and trouble here. No one ever beat me, no one ever touched me, no one ever did anything to me."

"Or anything _for_ you apparently."

Harry suddenly felt like crying. "Remus, I just– I want to leave here. I _can't_ stay here anymore. The Dursleys don't want me anyway."

"Harry, I'm sure that we can fix things with the Dursleys. We should be–ahh–more than capable of talking them into letting you stay for the rest of the summer."

"I don't want to stay! If it wasn't for those protective bonds based around my mother's blood, I would be out of here SO quick."

"Well, actually Harry, you could technically leave at any time. Those type of spells only take about a month or so to reinforce themselves. You've probably been in the clear for at least two weeks."

Harry blinked. _"Two weeks? TWO WEEKS?"_

"What? So you mean the protective spells were reinforced two weeks ago and Dumbledore was just going to leave me here? You were _all_ just going to leave me here?"

_"Of course Dumbledore just left me here_," Harry thought dully, _"he hasn't cared much to do it every other summer. He left me here for ten years. He could have found a wizarding family for me to stay with and just let me visit the Dursleys once a year and called it home or something_. _After all, that's what I've been doing at Hogwarts."_

Lupin sighed. "Harry, it is complicated. The bond _does_ get stronger the longer you stay. Besides, I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore wants you to get along with your only family. We all have your best interests at heart."

"I'LL NEVER GET ALONG WITH THEM REMUS!"

_"Yeah, I just bet that they have my best interests at heart. But of course Lupin wouldn't say anything that might cast Dumbledore in a bad light. Not Dumbledore, 'the only man who ever gave him a chance'."_

"Why did you hit him anyway?"

"I don't know...he said something about my parents or something."

Lupin frowned. "What did he say?"

Harry sighed. Should he tell Remus what Uncle Vernon had said about his father? If anyone would know the truth, it would be Lupin. _"But he would probably tell me it wasn't true even if it was."_ That thought was probably at least partially true. Lupin had a tendency to gloss over the more unpleasant aspects of things, even if he wouldn't right out lie to Harry about it. But the real reason that Harry didn't want to have this conversation was that he was afraid that if he started talking about anything too personal or upsetting that he would inadvertently reveal his cutting habit. Remus Lupin was the last person that Harry wanted to find out about his new "hobby". _"He would just talk about how sad my parents would be or how Sirius wouldn't want me to be this messed up over his death. Then I would just feel about a thousand times worse than I already do."_

"I don't know," Harry mumbled, "he was just saying that they were freaks or something."

"Hmmm, well you know that your parents were very good people Harry and–"

"Yeah, I know," Harry cut in. He really wasn't in the mood for _this_ conversation. "So when can I leave?"

"Tonight, I suppose."

"Good. And where will am I staying? Grimmauld Place?"

"Actually, we sort of thought that you might want to stay at the Weasleys."

Harry's face darkened. A year ago he would have been thrilled at the prospect of staying with the Weasleys for a few weeks. But now? Harry was afraid. Afraid for the people close to him. Afraid that people would target them because they were close to Harry Potter.

"I don't know if that's a good idea? Can't I just stay at Grimmauld Place?"

"You don't have to worry Harry, the Burrow is secure now."

"I don't want to stay there," Harry said stubbornly.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore thinks that it would be for the best and I have to say that I agree with him. It'll be good for you to be around a big family like that. If you stayed at Grimmauld Place, you'd only get depressed."

"What makes you think I'm depressed?" Harry asked sharply. He didn't want people thinking that he was depressed.

"You just seem...not yourself. So will you go...?"

"YES, Remus!" Harry snapped. "I'll go. I'm sure that you and Dumbledore and the Order only have _my best interests at heart_." Harry's voice was dripping with bitterness.

Lupin looked ready to say something else but Harry cut him off again. "I'll go get my things."

* * *

It was so late by the time Harry arrived at the Burrow that everyone had already gone to bed, with the exception of Mrs. Weasley who appeared to be waiting for Harry to arrive.

"Harry, dear," she said, getting up from her comfy looking chair and coming over to hug Harry tightly.

Harry pushed her away a bit too abruptly. "How are you Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked sounding very distant and formal.

"I'm well Harry," she replied looking rather confused. "Just been worrying about you dear."

Harry scowled. Lupin, having brought Harry, was now standing beside him and he and Mrs. Weasley were giving each other _looks_ over Harry's head. Looks that meant something about him. It was like Mrs. Weasley was asking about him and Remus was telling her that things weren't so good but that Harry should be humored. Harry felt he was being talked about behind his back. Or more like they thought he was three years old and wouldn't notice what the grownups said to each other over his head.

Harry had to bite back his anger. "I'm really very tired," he said loudly, "do you think that I could go to bed."

"Of course dear," Mrs. Weasley said immediately, looking back at Harry. "You'll be staying with Ron, of course, you know where his room is."

"I'll get your trunk for you Harry," Remus said taking out his wand.

"No, that's all right Remus. I have my pajamas in my backpack and here's Hedwig's cage. I can just get the trunk in the morning."

"Oh...okay."

Harry left Lupin and Mrs. Weasley to talk about him for real and slowly began to climb the stairs.

_"I guess that they're in there planning the next few days of my life out for me._ _What gives everyone the right to think that they can just move me around wherever and whenever they want? What do they think? 'Oh we're starting to feel guilty about leaving the poor little orphan boy who is supposed to save us all with the world's biggest creeps. A few days with the Weasleys will make everything all better again. Reverse all that damage. That way our consciences will be clear'" _Harry knew that he was being irrational and melodramatic. He should be thrilled to be staying at the Weasleys, just like those other summers. But Harry was just _so tired_ of people doing things to him without his permission. Tired of not having anyone. Tired of being used. Tired of being a tool and not a person.

_"After I fulfill that prophecy, if I don't die in the process, I won't mean anything to anyone."_

By the time that Harry made it up to Ron's room he was furious. He banged open the door abruptly and threw himself down onto the spare bed without saying a word to Ron who was still awake and was reading a Chudley Canons book.

"Well hello to you too," Ron sniffed.

Harry grunted something unintelligible in reply. "I knew that you were coming sometime tonight," Ron went on bravely, "Mum told me. I've been up waiting."

"Well I'm here," Harry snapped. He was starring straight up at the ceiling and clutching his arm in an odd matter.

"Yeah..." Ron trailed off uneasily.

"I think I'd like to go to sleep now," Harry had now adopted his detached manner.

"Yeah...alright Harry," Ron reluctantly turned off the lights and got into bed. "Harry?" Ron voiced into the darkness. Harry didn't reply. "I know what you're doing, you know." Still, Harry remained silent. "You're trying to push away all your friends because you think that you don't deserve them or that they'll end up dying and it'll be your fault."

Harry's breath caught. That was unusually perceptive of Ron.

"At least that's what Hermione said."

_"Ahhhhh, I see." _Harry thought.

"I just wanted to let you know that we knew. And that...well, we're your friends Harry. Goodnight." Ron seemed very awkward. Harry still didn't reply but Ron didn't seem to mind.

After a minute or two, Harry heard his friend gently snoring. Harry stared into the darkness. He wasn't really sleepy, he had just told everyone that because he didn't want to talk. Harry hadn't been sleeping all that well lately. When he was in the bed, trying to sleep was when the dark thoughts hit him the hardest.

_"I was so rude..."_

Harry felt guilty. What kind of person was he? He had raged and snapped at Remus, treated Mrs. Weasley like a total stranger and acted like Ron was a disease. Harry didn't want to act like a git, he knew that these people cared about him, they just didn't _get_ it.

The reason that Harry had treated his friends like strangers was that, in a way, they _felt_ like strangers. Ever since Dumbledore had told Harry about the prophecy, he felt very separate from everyone and everything that he once cared about. Quiditch, DA meetings, Chocolate Frog cards, friends, fun; these things were all part of the old Harry. The new Harry had a high destiny, but happiness, love, or hope were not part of the equation. The new Harry was numb and alone.

_"I still shouldn't have been so rude to everyone. They've never been anything but kind and generous to me and they get their heads bitten off in return."_ Tears began to well up in Harry's eyes and he suddenly wished that he had told Remus to float his trunk up after all. He could use that razor.

* * *

"Harry! Harry!" Ron's voice jolted Harry out of his sleep.

"Wha–" Harry mumbled groggily as he reached over and fumbled for his glasses on the large orange night stand.

Ron was sitting on the edge of Harry's bed. "You should probably get up, our Hogwarts letters are here and they have our O.W.L results in them. Besides it's two o'clock in the afternoon. You must have been really tired."

"Uhh...yeah...well," for the first time Harry noticed that Ron was fully dressed and that from the light outside, it was definitely the middle of the day. "Have you opened yours yet?"

"Yeah, I wanted to wait for you to wake up, but I just had to know! I got six O.W.L.s. Since Harry had woken up, Ron had been looking at him like he expected Harry to start screaming at him or something.

Harry smiled reassuringly at his best friend. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to smile. "That's great Ron. Well, where is mine. Might as well get it over with." Harry hadn't really thought about his O.W.Ls all summer, it was hard for him to think about school things when he was at the Dursleys but now that he _was _thinking of it, he was very nervous. Harry still had the dream of being an Auror when he got out of Hogwarts.

_"Potions is my problem," _he thought. _"In all my other subjects, I should score high enough. Sure, Transfiguration is tough, but I only have to get an E and with all my studying I should be able to pull it off. But an O in Potions? And who's to say that Snape will let me in his class even if I do make the grade?"_

"Here," said Ron, handing Harry his letter. Harry ripped it open and looked down at the sheet containing his O.W.L. scores. Harry had expected to see each subject listed followed by the letter score that he had received. What he saw instead was a confusing array of numbers, symbols and charts which seemed to analyze his test in every way possible. To make matters worse they were scrawled across the page in all different directions, rather like the _Daily Prophet._

"I wonder what a "percentile ranking" is," Ron muttered, looking over Harry's shoulder.

Harry finally saw his letter scores all lined up. They didn't look that bad. Harry's eyes darted across the page to see which grade belonged to which subject. His heart nearly stopped when he saw that in "Pot Prac" he had only made a very high E. He only started breathing again when he saw that he had made a high enough O in "Pot Wrt" to pull his overall Potions score up to an O.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. _"The slimy creep will have to let me in now. I made the grade." _Harry was that he had also barely scraped an O in Transfiguration and gotten a very high O in Defense. Overall, he had managed to get eight O.W.L.s.

_"Not bad at all..."_

"How'd you do?" Ron asked.

"Great, I got an O in Potions so I'll be able to take the N.E.W.T. level classes."

Ron's mouth dropped. "And you're actually _happy_ about that? I got an A in Potions so I'll get the O.W.L., but if I had to take two more years of Snape then I would probably just drop out."

Harry actually laughed, he felt the best that he had in ages. "Yeah, but according to McGonagall, I need Potions to get into the Auror's program."

"Oh, yeah. Oh, geez, I just thought of something. Hermione probably got like twenty O.W.L.s or something and she's probably writing us right now to tell us all about it."

Harry and Ron groaned.

* * *

A month later, Harry stood on Platform 9 3/4 with the Weasleys and reflected on the last few weeks. Despite his reluctance, staying with the Weasleys really _had_ been good for him. Harry really only became depressed and self-destructive when he was left alone with no one or nothing else to think of. At the Weasleys, everything was in a constant state of activity and Harry was surrounded by people working, talking, playing. Harry was able to push any dark thoughts into the back of his mind. They were still there, waiting for the right time to emerge, but they were at the back core of Harry's mind, not the forefront. He had only cut himself once the whole time he was at the Burrow. It had become almost a daily habit at the Dursleys.

Harry was looking around for any sign of Hermione whom he hadn't seen all summer, but it was impossible to see far in the den of students and Ron didn't seem all that eager to find her.

"C'mon Harry, let's get on the train already," Ron said, tugging on his friend's arm.

Harry and Ron had boarded the train and were looking for a compartment (Ron wanted near the back) when Harry felt someone in the crowded train bump into him and heard the distinct voice of Draco Malfoy. "Why don't you watch where you're walking Potter?"

Harry and Ron turned around to see Malfoy starring at him. He wasn't flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as usual, but had Theodore Nott standing nearby. "Shut up Malfoy. _You _bumped into _him_," Ron seethed.

Malfoy's eyes snapped over to Ron. "Nice shirt Weasley," he smirked as he took in the rather worn blue T-shirt that was Ron's favorite, "did you buy it at the same Muggle flea market where you picked up Granger?"

Ron's face turned bright red and he looked ready to launch himself at Malfoy. "Shut it Malfoy, you are so beyond lame," Harry said walking away and dragging Ron along with him.

Malfoy had a rather strange tone to his voice. "Clumsy, clumsy Harry Potter, if you don't stop being so careless you might just have an _accident_."

Harry turned around to find Malfoy starring at him with a very strange expression on his face. He had never seen quite that gleam in the little ferret's eyes before. His voice was no longer obnoxious and childish, but lethal. He looked even more like his father than Harry had ever noticed before. _"It isn't a game or a schoolboy grudge for him anymore. He's dead serious. Wait a minute? Am I afraid of Malfoy? Nah."_ Harry managed to find an empty compartment near the back and the boys entered and sat down.

"Malfoy is SUCH a STUPID GIT!" Ron was still bristling about the insult to Hermione.

"I think that he could actually be dangerous."

"What?" Ron said distractedly.

"I mean, I think Malfoy might really try to get me. He's furious that I helped put his father in prison and did you see the way he looked at me just now? Plus, at the end of last year, he looked right at me and said "You're dead Potter," or something like that. He was sort of serious too."

"Hmmm..." Ron appeared to think for a moment, "hmmm..." Ron's face lit up, Harry supposed at the joy of jumping to a conclusion about Malfoy. "You're probably right, Harry. Hey do you think he helped bust his father out of prison?"

"I don't know...he would have if he could have. But I don't know if he could manage it."

"Yeah..." Ron appeared to be disappointed.

"All the same, I think that we should keep an eye on Malfoy. There's just something not quite right about him this year."

"You know, we should probably keep an eye on all the Death Eater's children. I bet that Crabbe or Goyle or that Theodore Nott would love to get their hands on you. You put their fathers in prison too, you know."

"Yeah," said Harry, but before he could continue, Neville Longbottom came in and began making small talk. After that, there was a stream of people in and out of the compartment for a good while. At some point, Harry bought about half the candy on the trolley and shared with anyone who came in. Eventually, Harry and Ron were left alone again and they began picking over the remaining sweets.

"Ummm, I wouldn't eat that mate," Ron chuckled when he saw Harry grab several of what looked to be toffees.

"Why not?"

"Read the label."

Harry turned a toffee over in his hand and read the small print. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Wow, they really are getting successful!"

"Successful? They're going to be bloody filthy rich," Ron replied around a mouthful of chocolate. "And they never even finished school! I think Mum's still mad at them about that, even though they're making tons of money now."

Harry laughed loudly. At that moment, a familiar voice in the doorway said "_Ronald!"_

Ron cringed. Harry looked around to see his other best friend quickly advancing on Ron. "Why weren't you up front with the other prefects for the prefects meeting? I've been looking all over for you and here I find you pigging out!"

"I, umm, forgot?"

Harry smiled, so _that's _why Ron wanted to sit in the back and didn't want to find Hermione. Hermione glared at the redhead.

"Oh come _on_ Hermione, those meetings are the most boring things in the world. Besides, if I went then they would just try to assign me work"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, you _are_ a prefect, remember?"

"The only reason that most of the other prefects go is because that's where all the good gossip is. But I don't care about such girlish things."

Hermione snorted in disdain. "Fine, then you won't care if I don't tell you all the juicy gossip that _I_ heard."

Ron looked at her uncertainly. "Oh, come on. You'll tell us won't you?" Hermione merely looked at him haughtily. "Oh, all right. I'm interested in your stupid gossip! Satisfied?"

"Quite," Hermione sniffed, sitting down and taking a long time to compose herself. "Well, let's see...Blaise Zabini and Lavender Brown are going out."

"As in Blaise Zabini from Slytherin and Lavender Brown from Griffindor?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded and Harry shrugged. He had always like Zabini better than most of the Slytherins, but that wasn't saying much.

"And Filch took Mrs. Norris to this magical pet groomer to get rid of her fleas and they kind of made her...pretty, without Filch's permission.

"Pretty?" Ron asked.

"Let's just say pink and fluffy."

Harry and Ron's eyes widened.

"Oh, and they're saying that one of the first years on the train is Professor Snape's son."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "Wait, back up. Snape has a son?"

"Is Snape _married_?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Hermione replied thoughtfully.

"Snape has a _son_?" Ron repeated.

"Yes Ron, I just said that."

"What's his name? What does he look like?" Harry was curious.

"I don't know. I don't know any details."

"SNAPE has a SON!"

"Yes Ron. Get over it, already," said Hermione, rolling her eyes at him.

"Did you know that he had a son?" Ron asked, still reeling from shock.

"No, apparently no one but a few of the Slytherins knew."

"Well I guess that's just one more mini-Death Eater for us to watch," Ron said.

"What does that mean?" Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, we're watching all the Death Eater's kids because Malfoy's been giving Harry funny looks."

_"Well, it sounds really dumb when he says it like that," _Harry thought.

Hermione looked like she thought it sounded dumb too. "Professor Snape is not a Death Eater, Ron. He's on our side. Right Harry?"

Harry didn't answer. He was honestly very confused about Snape's loyalties. The man seemed like the archetypal dark wizard and he certainly hated Harry, but he had also seemingly gone out of his way to look after Harry several times. Harry didn't know if Snape was really loyal to Voldemort, but he wasn't willing to rule out the possibility either.

"Besides, the kid is ELEVEN, Ron. He doesn't even know _Wingardium Leviosa_ yet. I hardly think that he's a threat to Harry."

"Harry defeated Voldemort when he was eleven." Ron was being stubborn.

As they continued to quarrel, Harry absent-mindedly unwrapped a toffee and popped it into his mouth. Harry was at least mildly surprised when his head promptly burst into flame. Harry yelped in surprise, the spell didn't hurt, he just felt a slight crackling in his ears, but it was alarming all the same. Hermione looked over at him and shrieked, but Ron merely laughed. After about five seconds, the flames disappeared completely.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Ron explained at Hermione's confused look. "Harry bought them off the trolley."

"Oh, honestly. How did they even get the train station to buy and sell those ghastly things?"

"You don't want to know..." Ron muttered.

Within a few minutes, the train arrived at its destination and the students got off and began milling around again.

"Look at the little runts!" said Ron pointing to the first years who were clustered around Hagrid. "Can you believe that we were ever that small?"

Harry laughed. "No, not really." Just then, the smallest of the first years turned and caught Harry's eye. The look that he gave Harry was not the typical first year terror or excitement. Nor was it even a look that most eleven year olds could manage. It was calm and rather calculating. Like those dark eyes were sizing Harry up. Harry couldn't repress a slight shudder, he knew where he had seen that look and those eyes before.

_"Snape's eyes..."_

_"Snape's son..."_

**

* * *

**

Teaser, Chapter 3:

"I don't have a problem, Minerva. It's just that...others...might." Snape whispered, rather angrily.

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows shot up. "Others?" Then something seemed to dawn on her. "Oh yes, I see what you mean."

**A/N: Okay, I know that I put Snape as one of the main characters and he's GOING to be, I promise. He should start showing up in the next chapter. I just had to set it all up.**


	3. Sorting Out The Year

**Chapter 3: Sorting Out The Year**

". . .and that's why I think it would be a good idea to do some fund-raising event for S.P.E.W. It would raise awareness as well as money. We want to start sending out some pamphlets in the O.W.L. post so we could really use the money . . . " Hermione was saying animatedly.

"_Hermione is going to send people junk mail about house-elfs?" _Harry thought, he was beginning to regret his decision to sit beside Hermione in the Great Hall. Ron, sitting across from Harry, was looking horrified at the idea of putting on a "fund-raising event" for S.P.E.W.

"Hey, look! The Sorting is about to start!" Ron said, desperate to shut Hermione up.

The Great Hall quieted down considerably as Professor McGonagall out the stool and the Sorting Hat. Everyone listened and laughed at all the right places during the Sorting Hat's song. Harry watched the Hat take on a smug and self-satisfied look when everyone applauded it loudly at the end of the song.

"_That hat is so full of itself," _Harry thought, but then he wondered if it were even possible for a hat to be "full of itself."

The Hall watched attentively as the first student, "Adamson, Laura" was sorted into Ravenclaw. Harry smiled as he saw the little girl relax and run over to the cheering Ravenclaw table, he remembered what a relief it was to have your Sorting over and done.

As the novelty of the Sorting wore off, the students began to chat among themselves. By the time that "Deetle, Lydia" was sorted into Gryffindor, there was a healthy buzz of conversation going on in between the cheering from the various tables.

"Hey Hermione, where's Dean Thomas?" Harry asked, not seeing him sitting in his usual place beside Seamus Finnigan.

"Oh, I think he quit," Hermione replied.

"What? Why?" Harry asked.

"A lot of people quit after fifth year, Harry," Hermione whispered impatiently as "Nevrick, Reginald" was sorted into Slytherin. "I think that Dean's parents wanted him to get some normal education or something."

"Normal?" Ron asked in an offended tone, "And Hogwarts isn't normal?"

"Oh you _know_ what I mean, Ron. Muggle. My parents asked me if I wanted to do the same."

"They did?" Ron asked in a horrified tone of voice, as though Hermione's parents had suggested locking her in the Slytherin dormitories.

"Yes. They didn't pressure me too much or anything," Hermione said, taking in Ron's expression. "I think that my Mum just wanted me to go to the same school that she attended, but I told her that there was no way I was leaving Hogwarts until I sat for my N.E.W.T.s. Although, I might want to attend a Muggle university, you can never have too much education after all . . . "

Harry and Ron gave each other horrified looks as Hermione launched into a long reflection on what her options were after Hogwarts. From there, things quickly deteriorated to Hermione bothering Ron about what _his_ future plans entailed.

"It's not for another _two years_, Hermione," Ron groaned.

"All the more reason to"

"Snape, Caydon!" Professor McGonagall called out.

Harry's friends abruptly quit their bickering and turned their attention back to the Sorting. In fact, Harry noticed that a great many people had quit talking and were now watching the Sorting with interest. It wasn't quite the deadly silence that had accompanied Harry's own Sorting, but it was noticeable. Harry felt a small pang of sympathy for the little boy who was now shuffling up to the stool, nearly tripping on his robes, which were much too big for him.

The boy turned around and gave the Hall a sweeping, proud glance before climbing up onto the stool. He placed the Sorting Hat on his head, careful to tilt it back slightly so that it didn't fall over his eyes. Harry studied the boy carefully as the Sorting hat took its time.

"_He doesn't really look that much like Snape,"_ Harry thought, _"I don't know how I knew who he was."_

It was true, Caydon's hair was dark brown, rather than black and fell in waves that were about two steps removed from being ringlets. His nose, rather than being large and hooked, was small and snubbed. His skin was fair, but far from being sallow, he was almost unnaturally flushed. He stood a couple of inches shorter than any of the other first years. The eyes, however, were unmistakable, dark and intense, and full of pride, if not quite as malicious as the ones that Harry was used to looking at. Harry wondered how someone could master the art of killing with looks at the tender age of eleven.

The Sorting Hat deliberated for a moderately long amount of time before cheerfully announcing the one word that shocked Harry to his core.

"Gryffindor!"

There was a moment of stunned silence, before some polite cheering from the Gryffindor table and some surprised whispering from all the tables began.

"Well that was unexpected," Hermione commented mildly.

Everyone certainly seemed astonished enough, even Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows alarmingly from behind her spectacles. Harry looked over to the teacher's table to see how Snape was taking it and saw the Potions master regarding his son with what could only be interpreted as worry.

For his part, Caydon Snape calmly slid off the stool and walked over to the Gryffindor table, his head held high amid the whispers that he must surely have known were about him. He sat down with the other first years, a good way away from Harry. Harry quickly forgot him as Ron and Hermione began to bicker once again.

* * *

Harry left the feast early and made it up to the Gryffindor dormitory long before anyone else. He had felt strangely drained and not at all hungry and so had excused himself as soon as possible. Harry started to rifle through his truck, looking for his pajamas, when he came upon it. His razor. He suddenly knew what he needed to make him feel alive again. He climbed onto his bed, pulled the curtains around the bed, and rolled back his sleeve to reveal an arm that still bore many of the marks of his new hobby. He made a tiny new cut in his arm just below the elbow and watched the little river of blood run down his arm in fascination.

"_Look. I AM human. When you cut me, I bleed."_

Harry smiled and set his mind to making larger cuts.

* * *

"_What's wrong with me?"_ Harry looked down at his arm which was now covered in blood. _"There was no reason for this. I'm back at Hogwarts. I should be happy. I wasn't even thinking of Voldemort or Sirius or anything. I just needed to do this to feel like myself. Am I really that weak?"_

Harry was disgusted with himself, but right now he needed to deal with his most immediate problem, the blood that covered his arm. This presented a difficulty, however, as many people had come back up by now, and Harry knew that the Gryffindor wash rooms would have people in them. Harry threw on his invisibility cloak and went to go find an empty bathroom downstairs.

Harry washed all the blood off his arms and stayed in the bathroom for a long time calming his nerves. Eventually, however, he realized that it was probably past curfew and that he needed to get back to the tower before people began to worry about him. He put his invisibility cloak back on and hastily threw open the bathroom door and stepped out into the hall. As soon as he stepped out, however, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape turned the corner into the hallway.

"_SHITE! This is why I should always use the Marauders Map when trying to avoid being seen!" _Harry thought. _"It would be the two professors that you never want to let catch you breaking the rules too." _Harry soon realized, however, that they could not see him because he was wearing his invisibility cloak. The hallway was a dead end, so he couldn't dash away in the opposite direction, Harry had to settle for flattening himself against the wall opposite to the washroom.

"Did that door just open?" Harry heard Snape ask.

"Not that I could see, Severus," McGonagall replied.

Snape looked less than convinced. He opened the door to the washroom and glanced inside suspiciously, but didn't investigate further.

"Well. Regrading what we were discussing earlier, what do you know about her?" Snape asked.

Professor McGonagall pondered for a moment. "Not much. Only that she is from Beauxbatons and that she comes highly recommended by Madame Maxine."

"I didn't notice her at the feast."

"She wasn't there. She's not coming over until tomorrow morning I believe."

"Yet another Defense Against the Dark Art professor. I wonder if she'll last longer than a year? Professor Dumbledore should really reevaluate his hiring practices," Snape scoffed.

"Severus, you know that it is exceptionally hard to find anyone to take on that position."

Snape arced an eyebrow at her. "Still, I suppose that it will come as a welcome relief to have a professor who did _not_ attend Hogwarts. Perhaps she won't have an inherent prejudice against Slytherin."

"_I cannot believe that he would have the gall to say that right to McGonagall's face."_ Harry thought.

Professor McGonagall didn't bristle, however, but merely gave the smug smile of those who know that they hold the trump card. "Now Severus, I thought that you might let go of your obsession over house rivalries now that your son is one of us."

Snape grunted something under his breath.

"You're disappointed?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Snape snapped.

"Really? Because you seem like you might have a problem with it,"

"I don't have a problem, Minerva," Snape whispered, rather angrily. " I don't have a preference as to which house my son should be sorted into. Only Gryffindors and, I'll admit a few of the more fanatical Slytherin families, have a strong wish for their children to be Sorted into their own house. I was rather concerned that . . . others might have a problem with it,"

McGonagall's eyebrows shot up. "Others?" Then something seemed to occur to her. "Oh yes, I do see what you mean."

"Troublesome isn't it?" Snape said dryly. "I think I'll say goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight Severus," McGonagall said and she walked into a classroom near Harry.

Snape stood in the hallway for a long minute and Harry realized that he was still suspicious about the door opening. Snape walked over and felt the wall all around the door, Harry was grateful that he had moved to the opposite side of the hallway. Finding nothing Snape straightened up and gave a long glance around the hallway.

"Almost an hour after curfew," he announced. "It would certainly be a shame to catch some unfortunate student out of bed on the very first day, especially one of Minerva's precious Gryffindors."

"_Of course he would assume it was me, he does know about the invisibility cloak," _Harry thought. _"How does he always know, though?"_

Snape turned around and slowly walked away. Harry waited a moment and then dashed back to the Gryffindor tower.

* * *

Harry had Defense Against the Dark Arts as his first class the next day. The class was the fullest that Harry had ever been in at Hogwarts. In 6th and 7th year, students from all four houses took classes together, the assumption being that not that many people would sign up for the same classes. DADA had always been a popular class however, and with the new concerns over Voldemort there was barely a student at Hogwarts who didn't want to learn Defense.

"Where is the professor?" Hermione asked after a few minutes.

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"The new DADA professor," Hermione said, "class should have started five minutes ago and she's not here."

"Hermione! Don't complain about it!" Ron said.

"Maybe she's not here yet," Harry said, "she wasn't at the feast."

"Maybe we should just leave," Ron said hopefully. Harry could see that many other people in the class were discussing the same thing. Just as some Hufflepuff girls in the back got up to leave, their new professor walked into the classroom.

The class turned to look at their new teacher, after a moment, it was more like to gape at her. Her clothes could probably technically be termed "robes", but they were certainly more seductive than any robes that Harry had ever seen. They were bright red, tight, had a split in the leg up to the hip and Harry wondered if the woman was actually wearing anything at all underneath them. The professor's demeanor matched her clothing and she walked with a suggestive swing to her hips, her face was slathered with a large amount of cheap make-up and Harry could smell her perfume from where he sat.

"She's a goddess," Harry heard one of the boys behind him whisper.

"More like a hooker," one of the girls replied in a quieter whisper. This brought several giggles. Many of the boys in the class, however, couldn't keep their eyes off of her. Harry noticed that Ron was practically drooling.

The new teacher walked to the front of the classroom, sat down on the desk and crossed her legs, revealing a good deal of her shapely calf in the process. "Well am I late?" she asked looking down at her arm where a watch would be (she wasn't wearing a watch). No one replied. "Well, my name is Ms. Adele Maignier, but you may call me Adele. And we are going to be learning some defense this year!" She looked around as though she expected them to all be impressed by this announcement, when no one showed any signs of applauding her, she continued.

As she prattled on, Harry began to notice certain things about her, for example, she wasn't really all that pretty. Her hair was blonde and meticulously cared for and her figure was nice, but her features weren't particularly striking, in fact she had a rather big nose and thin lips. Adele was also much older than Harry had first thought, and he now estimated her to be near forty. Adele's speech was making less and less sense, and most people had ceased paying attention to what she was actually saying long ago.

"Excuse me, Ms. . . . Adele," Hermione piped up after a while, "did you say that we were going to be working on protecting from things like the twitching ears hex and the babbling hex?"

"Why yes I did, Mizz . . . ?" replied Adele, who had by now acquired an odd sounding French accent.

"Granger," said Hermione. "It's just that this is a sixth year class. Those things are in the _first _year textbooks, not that we really worked on them, but that is where they are. Besides, they are fairly worthless, I mean You-Know-Who isn't going to cast those silly hexes on us, is he?"

"I think that it would probably be best to let the teacher decide the curriculum, don't you Hermione?" Adele said pleasantly, checking the class role to find out Hermione's first name.

"But we really need to learn . . . " Harry started.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Adele said and her eyes flashed with something. Recognition? Admiration? Malice? "I don't think it's very nice to fight with your new teacher on the first day of school. Or are you just trying to flirt with poor leetle me?" By now her expression had evened out to being silly in a maddeningly female way once again.

"What, no. . . . " Harry said, as the rest of the class giggled. "I just . . . "

"Well, the great Harry Potter, flirting with a poor leetle school teacher like me? What will I tell my boyfriend?"

The class was hooting with laughter by now. Harry flushed and wished that the floor would open up and swallow him whole. Hermione, sitting beside Harry, was the only one who didn't seem amused.

"But Ms. Adele–" she started.

"NOW that we have discussed the curriculum, I'd like to take just a moment to talk about my attendance policy." Adele said loudly over Hermione. "Now you are all mature young men and women and I think that you know when you need to be in class and when you do not. This is why I let _you_ personally decide whether to attend class or not. If you think that you can miss class and still pass final exams then you are welcome to do so, I don't care. That sounds fair doesn't it?"

The class gaped at her.

"Wait, so you mean we don't have to come to class?" Pansy Parkinson asked.

"That's right," Adele replied.

"Excellent," said Seamus Finnigan and most of the class seemed to agree.

"Are you joking?" Hermione said, "No one will come to class if you–"

Adele rolled her eyes and gave the class a pained look that clearly said that Hermione was trying to make life difficult for all of them. "Those are the rules Hermione," she said. "I hope that they are not too hard for you to follow?"

"That was the most ridiculous class that I have ever sat through in my life," Hermione said on their way out. "Well besides Trelawney's class. No, maybe even including Trelawney's class."

"I don't know. She wasn't so bad Hermione. No one's as bad as Umbridge. ," Ron said.

"Shut up Ron!" Hermione yelled and her friends looked at her in surprise at the intensity of her emotion. "So I guess we're for sure doing the DA this year Harry?" she asked in a calmer voice.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Harry said.

"Wonderful. And we'll even be legal this time." Hermione said.

"I'd be afraid to say no to her too, mate," Ron whispered in Harry's ear.

Harry's next class was the one that he was dreading most, Potions. Unlike, DADA, the Potions class had very few students, just a dozen or so and most of them were Slytherin. Harry and Hermione were the only Gryffindors and Ernie Macmillan, who was looking rather uncomfortable, was the only Hufflepuff. It was then that something occurred to Harry.

"_The only person that Snape has to pick on in this class is ME. Everyone else is either in Slytherin or really good at Potions or schoolwork in general. There will be no one else, like Neville, to get on his nerves. Just me. Bloody magnificent."_

Snape started the class at the correct time, down to the second.

"Well," he said, "welcome to Advanced Potions class. You students are the "cream of the crop" so to speak," he continued, sounding thoroughly unimpressed by the idea, "in order to gain admittance into this class, you had to show at least some aptitude in the art, as you had to score a minimum of an "O" on your Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Although how some of you achieved this feat, utterly baffles me." He looked right at Harry as he said this and Harry knew that Snape was about to pick on him.

"Mr. Potter," he said, his lips curling cruelly, "considering your celebrity status it is perhaps unsurprising that you managed to cheat your way to an uncharacteristically high score on your O.W.L.s, despite the fact that you have demonstrated on numerous occasions that you lack the proper intelligence, discipline, and interest that is necessary for a mastery of the subject. However," and here he turned to address the whole class, "You should all know that sixth year Potions is, by no means, a required course. I expect only the most mature and professional of attitudes from my advanced classes. That being said, it is well within my rights to remove any student from my class that who is not up to standard, either academically or behaviorally." Here his gaze turned back to Harry.

Harry tried to control his temper, he really did, but he just couldn't help getting in a word of defense for himself. "I didn't cheat," he said angrily.

"Really?" Snape sneered, "Well, it may be that I have merely underestimated your abilities all these years. Can you tell me, even _now_, Potter, what the difference between monks and wolfsbane is?"

"_Oh crap, I know this!" _Harry thought, _"This is one of those stupid questions that Snape asked me on my very first day in his class. We learned it at the end of first year, but it's so technical and so unimportant! What IS it? If only he'd stop looking at me like I'm some kind of insect and let me think for a minute." _

Snape continued to look disdainfully at Harry while the group of Slytherins in the corner snickered.

"Come on Potter, are you really that dense?" Malfoy quipped. Snape said nothing.

"I can't remember, sir," Harry said, feeling like a total idiot.

"Hm, I thought not," said Snape. "Mr. Malfoy perhaps you'd care to enlighten us?"

Harry was almost sure that Snape thought Malfoy would know the answer, he _had_ insulted Harry after all, and Malfoy actually wasn't too shoddy at Potions. Apparently, he did _not_ know, however, because he leaned back in his chair and insolently answered, "No thanks, don't really feel like it today."

Snape's face flushed and Harry was sure that Malfoy was about to be flayed alive (even _Slytherins _couldn't get away with that amount of insolence in Snape's class), but after a moment, Snape calmed himself and continued his lecture as though it had never been interrupted. A few of the Slytherins actually snickered, everyone else seemed confused.

Harry sat through the rest of the lecture, trying to pay attention and trying even harder to ignore the looks Hermione was shooting his way, as though he had done something _wrong_.

Before he could go to his next class, one of the Ravenclaw prefects that Harry didn't know caught up to him.

"Hey Harry," she said, "Professor Dumbledore wants to talk to you in his office right now."

"_Great," _Harry thought, he did not want to talk to Dumbledore right now. In fact, he didn't particularly want to talk to Dumbledore at all this year.

"I don't suppose he thought to tell you the password to his office?" Harry asked wryly.

"Uh, no, he just saw me in the hall told me to tell you."

"Naturally," said Harry, "well, thanks. See you later."

"Bye Harry," she chirped brightly.

Harry stood in front of the headmaster's office wearily guessing off every kind of wizarding candy that he could think of, none of them were working.

"_He has to know that I'm out here. I bet the old man has it all rigged up so he can watch people try to read his mind and laugh. He is just so clever."_

Harry gave up and stood patiently outside the door, saying nothing. Sure enough, after just about a minute, the headmaster answered the door himself. "Harry, my boy," he said, "do come in."

Harry walked inside Dumbledore's office and plopped down into a chair. He knew he was being disrespectful, but he was just so sick of Dumbledore's maneuvering, he knew he was about to be played.

Dumbledore pretended not to notice Harry's attitude and sat down behind his desk. "How was your summer Harry?" he asked.

"_As if the man doesn't already know exactly how my summer was," _Harry thought. "It was fine sir," Harry said, restraining his temper with great effort. "Look I have classes, so why don't you just tell me why you called me up here and I can be on my way."

"Well Harry," Dumbledore started, "I think that we need to sort out your year a bit. I'm sure that you can see why I think that it would be a good idea to resume you Occlumency lessons . . . "

"With Snape?" Harry asked.

"If you like," Dumbledore smiled reassuringly at Harry, "but I would be perfectly willing and able to teach you myself this year, Harry."

"_Oh I bet you would," _Harry thought. _"He knows that I'm mad at him. So he's trying to get back in my good graces. Can't have the boy hero hating the headmaster, now can we? He's to teach, talk to me, become my mentor, then I'll owe him. Just like everyone else. Because everyone in Dumbledore's inner circle owes him. That's how he guarantees loyalty."_

Dumbledore noticed Harry looking down at his lap. "Come now Harry, surely that sounds reasonable."

"_He knows that there's no way for me to refuse. He's manipulating me. Pretending to give me a choice, where there is none. Or is there?" _Harry thought for a moment.

"Sir, if it's all the same with you, I'd rather keep taking my lessons from Professor Snape," Harry said as evenly as possible.

Harry then knew the distinct pleasure that few wizards have ever experienced. Saying something to catch Albus Dumbledore off his guard.

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore recovered, "but I was under the impression that you two didn't get along."

"Oh, you know, I'd just rather have Professor Snape teach me since I've already started my lessons with him. Besides I don't want to cut into your busy schedule, Professor Dumbledore."

Of course Harry knew that he hadn't fooled Dumbledore, the true meaning behind the words was clear, _"I would rather spend my time with a man who takes every opportunity to insult me and make my life hell than with you, you old coot." _Dumbledore wasn't stupid. He knew what Harry was doing. But Harry also knew that he had won, if Dumbledore tried to stop him from taking lessons from Snape then he would be conceding thathe hadn't really given Harry a choice. That he was being deceptive. And being perceived as deceptive would not be beneficial to Dumbledore's greater goals concerning Harry. Harry had outmaneuvered the master chess player, well for one move anyway. It felt exhilarating.

Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly. Harry had to keep himself from chuckling darkly. "Of course, Harry, if that's what you want," Dumbledore said.

"It is," Harry replied.

"Well then I'll arrange it."

While he was in Dumbledore's office, Harry felt nothing but pleased with himself, but once he left, it hit him. _"I just sentenced myself to a whole year of taking Occlumency from Snape just for the joy of offending Dumbledore. I must be INSANE."_ Harry was starting to get a headache. He needed to think. _"On second thought, it might not be so bad a thing. If I had taken Occlumency from Dumbledore, than he would have pulled his kindly old grandfather routine and I would have ended up getting close to him. It's probably better that I remember what Dumbledore is. I may hate Snape, but at least I can hate him consistently and there is absolutely no chance in hell of me ever getting close to Severus Snape."_


	4. Clear Your Mind

**A/N: Hello guys, thanks for the reviews. You guys are the best, keep them coming. One issue that I saw raised several times was Harry's cutting. It's not totally essential to the story, but it is an important plot device that I plan on using in several ways. So it is here to stay. And I don't see it as really out of character for a post OotP Harry. I know that it has been done before, but...oh well, lol. Enjoy chapter 4!**

**Warnings for this chapter: This chapter is rated PG-13 for cutting, disturbing images, and mild language. Darkish! Harry.**

**Disclaimer: I did not invent, nor do I own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter characters. I am but a humble fanfiction writer.**

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Chapter 4: Clear Your Mind**

The response to the new, legal DA was overwhelming. Harry thought that half the school must have approached either him, Hermione, or Ron about joining. Harry was beginning to wonder if one of the classrooms would hold everyone. They weren't really supposed to use the Room of Requirement for such things, as McGonagall had warned him early in the year. People from all years and all houses had wanted to join the DA, although Hermione had to tell Ron to stop telling the Slytherins that they couldn't join. Now _that_ had been an argument. Ron saying that Slytherins couldn't be trusted if they ever wanted to do something not strictly by the rules again and Hermione saying that it was against the rules to deny just one house access to a student club and that the DA could be closed down if Ron started telling people that. Harry wondered if the popularity of the DA had more to do with the fact that Voldemort was an increasing threat or with the fact that their new DADA professor was universally regarded as a nitwit. Harry wasn't all that sure what Voldemort was doing these days because Hermione, who seemed to have guessed that the stories upset him, went to great lengths to keep the _Daily Prophet_ papers and Harry away from each other.

Harry was also Gryffindor Quiditch captain. He hadn't really wanted it, he had somehow lost interest in Quiditch over the summer, about the time he started cutting, not enough to want to quit, but enough to want to not be captain. But everyone on the team had been of the opinion that Harry would be the only suitable choice and so he had reluctantly accepted. He had a feeling that he wouldn't make a very good captain, he wasn't at all interested in organizing (he left organizing the DA to Hermione), nor did he like bossing people around. For now, he just did whatever his team mates suggested.

In the beginning of the third week of school, after putting it off as long as possible, Harry finally had to go take his first Occlumency lesson. He wondered if Dumbledore had told Snape that Harry had actually requested Snape for a teacher. Harry sincerely hoped that he hadn't. Harry stood outside Snape's office for a long moment before taking a deep breath and stepping inside. This was going to tough, especially after what happened last year.

Harry found Snape sitting at his desk, grading papers, apparently not pleased with what he was seeing. Harry went and stood in front of his desk, waiting.

"Sir?" He said when Snape didn't give any indication that he even knew Harry was there.

"I see you Potter," Snape snapped and went back to grading the paper. He graded the paper agonizingly slowly and when he was finished he finally looked up.

"Must you gape at me like a fish, Potter?"

Harry fought to be respectful. Wouldn't do to start off on the wrong foot. Not that there was a "right" foot with Snape. "I'm here for my Occlumency lesson, sir." Harry said.

"I know that Potter!" Snape snapped at him again. "Once again, fate has decided to curse me with your presence. The headmaster is dead set on you learning Occlumency, and I can certainly see why, although with you it seems to be a lost cause."

_"I guess Dumbledore didn't tell him that I requested him. Well, that's one good thing at least."_

"Did you at least practice over the summer?"

"What?" Harry snapped out of his thoughts. "Uh, yeah, sure. Well, a little."

Snape looked at him doubtfully.

"Well, no one ever told me to practice over the summer, so I guess I thought that I didn't have too."

"Is that so?" Snape sneered. "And tell me, Mr. Potter, did you think that Voldemort would suddenly disappear? That your link with him would somehow evaporate? One would think that after last year's events in The Department of Mysteries you would have finally grasped the seriousness of the situation, but apparently nothing ever gets to Harry Potter." Snape smiled cruelly.

_"How DARE he remind me of Sirius!" _

"Are you planning on teaching me today, or just being nasty sir?" Harry growled through gritted teeth.

Snape smirked at him. "Five points from Gryffindor, Potter. Well I suppose that I need to at least _try_ to teach you, but before I do let me just stress one thing," Snape's eyes narrowed as he spoke. "MY personal possessions and memories are _MY OWN_ and I assure you that should you invade my privacy again, you _will _regret it."

Snape waited a moment as though expecting Harry to respond. When Harry said nothing, he gave a long sigh and _finally _started the lesson. "Clear your mind Potter," he said in a bored, irritated tone of voice, as though he knew that it would be hopeless.

Harry blinked. He was just going to start with this again? Despite what Snape had said earlier, Harry really did have much more of an interest in learning Occlumency this year, even if he didn't have much interest in taking lessons from Snape. He knew that this was not going to work. Last year, Snape had kept insisting that Harry clear his mind without ever even really telling him how he might go about it.

"Sir?" Harry asked. "That's one thing I don't understand. You keep saying "clear your mind", but I don't know _how_ to do that. Isn't there some kind of technique that you can teach me or something?"

Snape seemed torn between berating Harry and actually answering the respectfully worded question. He opted for a combination of the two. "Well Potter, I would think it would be easy enough for _you_ to clear your mind." Harry just looked at him. Snape sighed. "It is different for different people. There is not any one way of going about it and I am not an expert on meditative methods. I am fairly certain that the way that I clear my mind would not be effective for you, Mr. Potter. I am told that most people simply try to forget all the petty concerns of the day and relax."

_"Well that didn't help much. That's what I was doing before."_

"Okay," Harry said out loud.

"Good, now clear your mind," Snape repeated. Harry tried to do so. _"Legilimens!"_

* * *

After an exhausting Occlumency lesson, which didn't do any more good than usual, Harry went up to relax and hang out in the Gryffindor common room only to be harassed by Hermione for skipping Defense class.

"Hermione, she _said_ that we didn't have to come, and I only missed one class!" Harry finally huffed in exasperation.

"I know that Harry, but if your going to be heading up a Defense club, don't you think that you ought to be setting a proper example–"

"What am I? The bloody headmaster? Besides, everyone has been missing class."

"Not everyone," Hermione insisted, "_I've _been to every class. So have a few of the Ravenclaws. And a lot of the boys come quite often–"

"In hopes of seeing up Adele's robes," Harry cut in.

"Harry, I really think you should–"

"ALL RIGHT Hermione! For God's sake, I pity the man who marries you, you're such a nag! It's not like I missed anything anyway." That was certainly true. Adele's lessons had all been either as easy or as useless or both as she had promised on her first day.

"Well aren't you in a mood today–" Hermione started, when a small discreet cough at Harry's side stopped her.

Harry turned around and found himself looking straight into the eyes of Caydon Snape. Beside him stood a small blonde headed girl with large glasses and a huge book in her arms.

"You're Harry Potter?" the boy asked.

"Uh, yeah. That's me." Harry said.

"I'm Caydon Snape, I want to join the DA," he said. "And you should know that according to the Hogwarts Code of Conduct Article II, Section 3, line 14," he took the book and opened it to a certain page as he said this and read: "no student can be denied membership in any student organization, club, or activity for any reason other than age, year, or ability level."

"It's all right there in the Code of Conduct," the girl added indignantly.

"Whoa, whoa," said Harry, "don't get all legal on me kids." Both children glared at him. _"Okay maybe I shouldn't have called them kids. I certainly never liked being called a kid." _

"What makes you think that I wouldn't let you in. I never said that you couldn't join." Harry added.

Caydon and the girl looked at each other. "Well, I asked your friend, you know, the one with the red hair, if I could join yesterday and he said that you weren't taking first years. Only I know that you are because a couple of the boys in my room are joining."

_"Oh crap," _Harry thought while Hermione seethed beside him. He could understand Ron's line of reasoning, if they had to do anything not exactly above board again, then it certainly wouldn't do to have Snape's _kid_ knowing about it. But they really couldn't make the DA into their own little exclusive club of friends either, it would just end up getting them in trouble, besides _everyone_ needed to know how to protect themselves from the Dark Arts.

"Uh, yeah. Ron just misunderstood. From now on, if you want to know anything about the DA ask either me or this girl here, her name is Hermione. We're the ones who are really running it anyway." Harry said.

Caydon looked at him suspiciously. "He was signing other people up, he seemed like he was helping organize things."

"Well, uh, yeah, he sort of is. But he's not really in charge."

"And he's a moron," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Okay then," Caydon said brightly, "oh, this is my friend Lydia Deetle, she wants to join too." He gestured to the girl at his side and then abruptly turned around and started to walk away.

"Wait...Snape!" Harry called after him.

Caydon looked at him oddly. "Yes?"

"Your father is okay with you doing this, right?" Harry couldn't imagine Snape being happy with his son joining an organization that was headed and taught by Harry Potter.

"Do other students have to ask their parents permission to join a school club?"

"Um, well no. I just don't want him to be mad at me or something."

Hermione snorted. "Because you usually get along with him _so_ well," she whispered so that Caydon couldn't hear.

For the first time, Caydon gave a small smile. "I talked about it with him. He said that he thought I was capable of choosing what I wanted to do with my spare time." Caydon and Lydia Deetle were both smiling and carefully avoiding each other's eyes. Harry got the impression, from their expressions, that this wasn't _all_ Snape had to say on the matter.

"Well then, see you there." Harry mumbled, unable to think of anything better to say.

"Come on Lydia," Caydon said, walking away. Lydia picked up the large Code of Conduct book and scurried after him.

After they had gone Hermione shook her head. "I am going to kill Ron," she said.

"Hermione, he was just trying to help," Harry said.

"Harry! He already told a bunch of Slytherins that they couldn't join. How long do you think that Snape is going to put up with this before he files an official complaint!" Hermione stormed off to find Ron.

_"Well at least she won't be nagging ME."_

* * *

As it turned out, however, Snape was not the one that they had to worry about opposing the DA. The next day Harry was called into the headmaster's office where, to his surprise, he found a very amused Dumbledore, a very annoyed McGonagall and a very tearful Adele.

"What is this?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Sit down Harry," the headmaster seemed to be holding back laughter. Harry sat down beside Adele. "It seems that Adele here has issued an official complaint against your Defense group."

"What? Why? We haven't really even started yet!"

Dumbledore looked at Adele expectantly, his eyes twinkling like mad. Adele seemed so overcome with tears that she took a moment to respond. "Oh–oh," she cried, "I–I thought that you _liked_ me Harry. I thought that you thought I was a good teacher. And then you go starting this little club behind my back..."

"Wha–What? No, we had the idea to start the DA last year, before Adele even came. You know this, Professor Dumbledore."

"Headmaster, this is ridiculous," Professor McGonagall cut in, "Adele does not even have a legitimate complaint. She is just angry because she thinks that this association is some sort of threat to her teaching ability." As McGonagall said this, Adele wailed loudly at her words.

"Is–is this how you treat all your new teachers?" she asked. "They w–would certainly never allow this kind of thing at Beauxbatons."

Professor McGonagall drew her lips into a thin line. Professor Dumbledore tried to sooth Adele. "Now, now, my dear girl. I'm sure that Harry didn't mean to insult you in any way. Surely we can sort this matter out."

"The Code of Conduct states that any student organization with more than thirty members must have a faculty advisor. I insist on being allowed to advise this group." Harry was surprised that Adele knew the Code of Conduct.

"_I_ will advise them," said Professor McGonagall who apparently did not have a very high opinion of Adele. Adele glared at her.

"Well then, that's all sorted out," said Dumbledore brightly as though they had all just come to some kind of wonderful agreement, completely ignoring the fact that two of his professors were looking as though they wanted to decapitate one another.

"But–" Adele started.

" I _think_ that it would be best to let Professor McGonagall do this Adele," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "After all she is Deputy Headmistress and so should get her pick of–"

"Oh all _right_" Adele snapped, knowing when she was beaten. She wasn't crying anymore, but merely got up and flounced out of the room.

The headmaster chuckled. _"That old nut," _Harry thought, _"he really enjoyed that."_

"Harry," the headmaster said, "don't you have class in a bit?"

He looked as though he knew what Harry had been thinking and was amused by it. Harry wondered if the old man had been using Occlumency on him. He hurriedly got up, nodded to Professor McGonagall and rushed out to try to make it to Charms class on time.

* * *

That night, Harry resolved to practice Occlumency. Not the half-hearted practicing that he had done last year, but really try to figure the subject out. It had become so much more important to him after...Sirius.

Harry laid down on his bed and looked up at the stone ceiling. _"Let's see, what is it that Snape always says in lessons...? Oh yeah, "clear your mind". Well that's not much help. It's what I've been trying to do all this time. What else? "Let go of all emotion..."_ Harry thought on that for a minute. _"When do I feel the least emotion?" _The answer came quickly, a sweet, soft whisper in his mind. _"When you cut..."_

Harry gasped. _"N-no. That can't be the answer."_ As Harry lay in bed, it became clearer and clearer, however. _"Before I cut...I'm a sea of confusing emotions. _While_ I cut, I feel and I'm so happy to feel the pain. But after...I feel so calm, so relieved, I feel nothing and everything. And then, once all the emotions have been sucked out of me, I can start to find new, better ones. I can start to feel truly alive and happy again." _

Harry rolled over and absentmindedly pulled back his sleeves to look at his arms. _"So now all I have to do is to think of a way to recreate that feeling. When I learned to conjure a Patronus, I had to think of a pleasant memory. Maybe I need a memory for this as well. No, not a memory, more like a metal image."_

Harry closed his eyes and imagined large cuts on his arms. Imagined the small rivers of blood running down his arms. Lupin's voice when he was learning to conjure a Patronus came back to him, _"That's not nearly strong enough..."_

He imagined Voldemort, Cedric dying, Sirius dying, reading newspaper article after newspaper article about deaths caused by Voldemort. _"That's no good. It just feels me with MORE emotion: anger, despair, blame."_

Harry rolled over in frustration and pressed his face into his pillow. _"I've almost got it..." _

Suddenly Harry remembered a dream he had several months ago, after he had begun cutting–he had mostly forgotten it the next morning, other than a vague image and an uneasy feeling, but it came back to him now with striking vividness. He was standing in the middle of a large empty room that he had an odd feeling that he had been in before. Everything was in black and white but light streaming through two windows on one side of the room and the sheer whiteness of the walls made everything very bright. Harry had the horrible feeling that something evil was approaching, then the feeling that the evil was with him, _inside_ of him. One agonizing second at a time he moved his head ever so slightly downward and stretched out his arms, palms facing upward. His arms were smooth and white, as they never would be again. Harry touched the soft, smooth skin of his right arm with trembling fingers.

Blood began to pour from his arm, far more blood than he ever saw when cut himself. The blood was the only color in the room. It was soon flowing from both arms, down his hands, collecting in a pool at his feet. He was crying tears of crimson, far darker than actual blood. The walls were crying too, great black streaks that looked like ink were running down him. Harry looked into the pool of his own blood, fascinated. He stared deeper and deeper. The red turned to black and soon the darkness was only thing that he saw. The nightmare was over. Harry felt nothing.

* * *

As soon as Harry walked into Snape's office, Snape pointed his wand at Harry. "_Legil–_"

"Wait! Professor Snape!"

Snape stopped and gave him a very irritated look.

"Do you think that you could give me a few seconds before you cast the spell? I need to think."

Snape sneered at him. "Do you think that the Dark Lord will be giving you "a few seconds", Potter?"

"No," Harry said"I just want to try something."

"Very well Potter," Snape said in an exasperated voice, "I'll count to ten and then I'll cast the spell." Snape began counting slowly. "One...two...three...f–"

"Wait, wait," Harry interrupted. Snape glared at him. "I can't think with you doing that. It is distracting. Just count to ten silently and then cast the spell."

"Of course Potter," Snape snipped sarcastically. "Anything else you wouldlike? A comfy chair and some incense?"

"Please just do it sir," Harry said. What would he do if Snape didn't agree? He didn't think that he would ever be able to Occlude quickly and with distractions without practicing it in this way first.

"Oh _all right_," Snape said. "Ten seconds and not an instant more. Begin now."

Harry remembered seeing the pool of blood in the dream. He looked into it. _"This is my blood. My life."_ Soon he was surrounded by nothingness, devoid of emotion. He didn't hear the word "_Legilimens_" but felt an alien presence force its way into his mind, searching and searching but finding nothing.Harry soon pushed the presence out of his mind. He was pushing and pushing, right into Snape's own mind. He was easily sifting through Snape's memories. He saw one of the same memories that he had seen last year–Snape's father screaming at his mother, only this time it was more clear.

_"You're nothing! Nothing, do you hear me, you whore?" _He shouted. Then he hit the woman over and over again until she fell to the ground crying. Snape, who couldn't have been any older than five huddled in the corner crying. Harry felt something pushing him out. He was jerked back into his own body to find Snape glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

"I thought I told you to stay out of my memories, Potter," he whispered dangerously.

"I didn't mean to sir—I just—"

"How did you do that?"

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"What! You imbecile! How did you break inside my mind without uttering a syllable? It is supposed to extremely difficult to do, only the most skilled Legilimens can manage it! Yet you have shown virtually no indication of having any grasp of this subject at all before now!"

"Oh, well I didn't mean too–"

"You never mean too, do you Potter? Things always just happen for you. You have no control over your magic or discipline at all..." Snape paused in the middle of insulting Harry as though he had just remembered something.

"What technique did you use to clear your mind?"

"What? Why do ask?" Harry said evasively.

"Because you had a highly unusual expression on your face while you were preparing, Potter. And you said that you were going to 'try something'."

"Oh, um, well it was nothing really. Just trying to relax more."

"I see," said Snape, thoroughly unconvinced. "Mr. Potter, you should be aware that some forms of Occlumency, while probably the most effective, are not used by the majority of wizards because they are not considered particularly healthy for one's mental state and are generally thought to be bordering on Dark Arts."

Harry avoided Snape's eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. When you said clear your mind, I always thought you just meant to concentrate or something," Harry said a little angrily.

"I'm not responsible for your idiotic assumptions, Potter."

"What method of clearing the mind do _you _use sir?"

"That is none of your business. _Legilimens!_"

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Coming soon: Chapter 5: What's In A Name?**

**Please Review!**


	5. What's In A Name?

**A/N: Yay! Chapter 5! Thank you guys so much for all the reviews. They are very helpful and encouraging.**

**Responses to Reviews:**

**_ckat44: The cutting will continue to be a part of the story although I think that it will be much more important in these early chapters than later on. So it will eventually lose a lot of importance in the story. That last chapter (Chapter 4) should be one of the more disturbing ones in the story, what with Harry's weird dream and everything. There is only one other instance that I foresee as being equally disturbing._**

**_Desiree K Troy: Thanks for the good review and all the constructive criticism. I'll keep all that in mind. I actually agree with you on most points, but I would like to tell you my reasoning for giving the boys so many O's. I had to give Harry an O in Defense, that was just a given. I know that giving him an O in Potions was a bit unrealistic, but he had to have it to get into Snape's class (this is in OotP) and it is not in the interests of this story to have him not take Potions or to have him get in through special treatment. As for the O in Transfiguration, I thought that he should score at least as high in Transfiguration as in Potions, although on second thought, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. And as for Ron...I don't think that I mentioned giving him any O's at all (correct me if I'm wrong though), I just said that he got six O.W.L.s. I'm assuming that you don't have to get an O in order to get an O.W.L. When I was trying to figure out what the average number of O.W.Ls to get was, I figured that Percy got 12 and this was very exceptional and the twins got 3, and this made their mother very angry. So I figured that 5 or 6 would be a good average number to get, and I see Ron as being very average. I wanted to give Harry slightly more than this for the purposes of this story. So I did at least think about it, even if I manipulated things a bit._**

**Warnings for this chapter: Mild language. That's it. This is a tame chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it. I _do_ own Caydon. He's mine, I tell you! Hugs Caydon. Okay, so much for the mature, professional disclaimer.**

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Chapter 5

**What's In A Name?**

Harry was nervous about the first DA meeting. Sure, he had taught it last year and under much more threatening circumstances, but that had basically been a small group of Harry's friends and acquaintances. The number of people who had signed up for the DA this year, at more than seventy, made it the largest student organization at Hogwarts. Hermione had suggested splitting the class into two sections. One for the first through third year students, and one for the fourth through seventh years. Since difference in ability level had been a minor problem even last year, Harry thought that this was a good idea. The class would meet once a week in the Defense classroom since it was the biggest. This was a development that Adele had _not _been pleased about, but as she had no say about what went on in the classroom when she was not using it, she hadn't been able to do anything about it. Frankly, Harry was baffled as to why exactly she was against the DA, usually she could care less about things. Hermione had hinted that Adele was afraid that Harry would be better at teaching Defense than she was.

The class would first meet together, then they would be split into the two different groups. Harry and Hermione would alternate teaching the two groups, Hermione would focus more on the necessary technical "book" explanations, although the DA material would contain a much smaller amount of this than a real Hogwarts class, and Harry would focus on practical demonstrations. Hermione had said that it would give the students two different "views" of the material. This whole business made Harry feel very uneasy, as though he were a Hogwarts teacher. Hermione, of course, was reveling in it.

Harry arrived at the classroom early to prepare. _"I can't do this! What was I thinking? I'm not a teacher! I'm not even smart. I'm just a pretentious_ _little celebrity." _Harry continued on this same destructive line of thought for several minutes.

"Harry. Harry!" a voice was saying at his side.

"Huh? What?" Harry snapped out of his dark thoughts to find Ron looking at him with concern.

"Bit preoccupied mate?" Ron asked with a slight chuckle.

"Huh?"

"Oh, it's just that I had to call your name four times before you heard me."

"Oh sorry. I was just thinking."

"You're not nervous are you?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Well, a little," Harry admitted.

"Oh, come on! With all the stuff you've done? The Triwizard Tournament and all those Quiditch matches and everything?"

That was exactly what Harry _didn't _need to hear. He definitely didn't need to be told that he would be more competent at running the DA because he was the boy wonder.

"None of those things make me better at _this_!"

"Yeah...but what about all your experience teaching the DA last year?"

That was slightly better, but Harry still wasn't convinced. "Yeah, but that was different. The DA was so much smaller last year."

"So? Same concept, bigger group. Besides Harry, the only reason that so many people signed up this year is that all the people in the DA last year put out the word on how much fun it was."

"Really?" Harry asked. That actually sounded pretty good.

"Well, I wouldn't call that the _only_ reason," said a voice from the doorway, it was Hermione.

"Why do you have to be such a killjoy, Hermione?" Ron said irritably.

"I just meant that it was _a _reason, it wasn't the only reason," Hermione said honestly. Harry, however, was somewhat comforted by the fact that both his friends seemed to consider this a reason for the increase in DA members.

Hermione looked around the room disapprovingly. "I thought you guys were supposed to be preparing! You haven't even moved the desks!"

* * *

Harry stood in front of the group of expectant DA members nervously. "Welcome to the DA, year two," he said finally. There was a good amount of applause. Harry gained some confidence. "Well, as you can all tell, we have grown tremendously this year! We're going to split the class up to make it easier to teach, so I want to ask all the first through third years to move to the back of the room. They all did so and Hermione walked to the back with them and said a spell to create a partition in the middle of the room.

_"Wow, where did she learn to do that?"_

Harry felt very comfortable while he was teaching the older class. It really _was _like last year. They picked up where they left off last year. Of course, those who had taken the DA last year were quite a bit ahead of those who hadn't, so Harry set those people to helping the rest. He didn't expect that everyone would be able to do well right away, but at least they were all learning the basics. Harry just had to keep everyone working hard and keep Neville from killing himself and he would be fine.

When he switched to the younger class, however, Harry felt considerably more nervous. Unlike the upper level students, most of whom knew Harry in at least some small way, these children actually looked at Harry like he was a teacher. They sat attentively on the floor as he taught them _Expelliarmus_, raised their hands to ask questions and some of them even took notes. Caydon Snape scribbled notes furiously any time Harry opened his mouth. It was starting to creep Harry out. Most of the Slytherins were in this group as well.

_"I wonder how furious Hermione would be if I encouraged people NOT to take notes?"_

After class, Harry stayed to straighten things up. He felt content. Overall, the first meeting of the DA had been a success.

"Excuse me," came a small voice from behind him.

Harry looked around and then down to find Caydon Snape looking at him unblinkingly, a page of notes in his hands.

_"That kid has really scary eyes..."_

"Did you want something Snape?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I have a question about the lesson," Caydon answered.

"Um, okay. Let's hear it," Harry said.

"Okay, I can already cast _Expelliarmus_, but what I don't understand is why factors such as your stance, degree of motion, and inflection of voice effect the spell so much."

_"Good question..."_

"Well, uh, things like that commonly effect spells."

"But not nearly to the degree as in _Expelliarmus_. Let me show you what I mean."

Caydon took out his wand and pointed it at one of the practice targets (Harry hadn't wanted first years casting spells on each other without practicing on something else first). "_Expelliarmus!" _A thin stream of pink light burst out of his wand and hit the target.

"That's the idea," Harry said.

"Yes, but watch this." Caydon pointed his wand at the target with no change that Harry could see and said cast the spell again. This time a bright red pillar of light shot out of his wand much more quickly and it hit the target hard, causing it to rock back and forth alarmingly.

"See?" Caydon said. "All I did was straighten my arm a bit and plant my feet firmer into the ground and there was _that_ much difference?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. _Expelliarmus_ is a very unpredictable spell. If you aren't forceful enough, then it may not work, too forceful and you could knock someone across the room and thus cause some serious physical damage to them or even ahh...uhh..." Harry trailed off into incoherent babbling.

"What?"

"...knock someone out," Harry finished, thinking of how he knew this from _personal_ experience in casting the spell. "It would be hard to do that with just one _Expelliarmus_ though," he reassured Caydon.

"But _why_ is it like that?"

"I don't know, I never really thought of it. Isn't it enough to know that it _is_ like that? I mean that's all you ever need to know to use the spell."

"I like to understand things."

"Didn't Hermione explain all this?"

"Not in depth. Not even as well as you just did."

"Well," Harry said feeling dumb, "you could look it up in the library or ask a teacher, but I wouldn't recommend Adele."

Caydon giggled. "I'll do that," he said, "thank you, sir."

_"Sir!"_

"Wait, don't ever call me 'sir' again. I'm not a teacher or even an adult."

Caydon shrugged. "I was just being respectful. You're sort of in a position of authority and you're older than me." Caydon ran out of the room before Harry could respond.

_"Okay, that was definitely weird. I didn't think that even a first year would ever call me 'sir' and it was Snape's kid of all people!"_

Harry resolved to study the spells that he planned on teaching more carefully from now on.

* * *

The next couple of DA classes went well. Harry became used to Caydon staying after class to ask him annoying, irrelevant questions. Harry only knew the answers about half the time. Occlumency was also going surprisingly well. Harry finally seemed to have caught onto the concept of clearing his mind and was now learning quite rapidly. Snape was slightly less irritable than usual, probably because Harry was actually learning something.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Snape said one day, "as you have become rather decent, although by no means flawless at keeping me out of your memories and thoughts, I think that it is time that we started on the second, more difficult part of Occlumency."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. "The more difficult part?" he said faintly.

"Yes. Surely it cannot have escaped your notice that although you can keep me out of your memories, I have full access to your emotions. Yet another reason that clearing your mind beforehand is considered so important in Occlumency.

_"Oh God. He knows my emotions? My thoughts are pretty dark right before I Occlude sometimes._

"Emotions are much easier to read and to use than thoughts alone. A skilled _Legilimens_, if unable to read your thoughts, will seek to use your emotions such as fear, anger, or despair, against you. This can sometimes give them a foothold into your actual thoughts. You may have noticed that most of the times that I was able to break into your thoughts, this was the technique that I used. This form of _Legilimency _is much easier to perform and can often occur accidentally. Due to your link with the Dark Lord, you have probably felt his emotions before now, whether you realized it or not."

Harry said nothing.

"Now, in order to..."

But at that moment there was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Snape said irritably.

A fifth year Slytherin boy whose name Harry couldn't remember, but whom he recognized as one of Snape's favorite students walked into the room.

"Um, Professor Snape," he said, looking oddly at Harry, "I think that Adele needs some...help."

"What has she done this time?" Snape sighed.

"Uhh, maybe you should just come."

"I'll be right there, Darius." The boy nodded and left the room. "Potter, I think that this concludes our lesson."

"What? But you were about to teach me that other thing."

"You heard Darius. I have to go help the sixth in a long line of incompetent, idiotic Defense professors."

Harry ignored the insult to Lupin and protested some more. He didn't want the lesson to end yet. He was _very _interested in concealing his emotions. "But I could wait here until you were done, sir."

Snape gave Harry a significant glance. "No I don't believe that you _can_, Potter."

"You're not still upset about when I– I mean the last time you left me alone in your office." Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "Look, it was a stupid thing to do and I wish to hell that the thought had never even entered my mind. I am NOT about to do that again."

_"He doesn't know how much I wish that I had never seen my father like that..."_

"Unfortunately, you have demonstrated to me in the past that you are a very untrustworthy individual. I will not discuss this further. This lesson is OVER, Potter."

"I wish that you wouldn't call me Potter," Harry said without even thinking. He immediately wished that he could take back his words.

"You say the oddest things, Potter," Snape drew the name out, savoring each syllable. "Why is this?"

_"Oh great, now I have to explain. And I've never even thought of the answer. But I DO hate it when he calls me that."_

"It's just that every time you call me that, you're not even thinking of me. You're thinking of my father, I can tell. And you immediately become more..."

"More what?" Snape snapped.

"More angry."

"I see," Snape sneered at him, "and what would you like me to call you? 'That idiot who plagues my life'? Potter is your _name_."

"You could call me by my first name."

"That would be inappropriate for the teacher/student relationship!"

"Oh come off it. Dumbledore calls everyone by their first name and I've heard you call students by their first names too. Why just now, you called that Darius boy by his first name!"

"Regardless, I am not calling you _Harry_!" Snape was starting to get angry.

"But I think that it would make things easier..."

"No."

"You could..."

"No!"

"You know," Harry said in a last ditch effort, "some people would say that you confusing me with my father is something that you had in common with Sirius Black."

"I'll consider it."

"Really?"

"Go away, Potter."

* * *

Harry skipped Quiditch practice and went up to his room to nap. He knew that his teammates would be angry, but what could they do? Kick him off? Not likely. He didn't expect, however, to have the full fury of Hermione Granger, who usually couldn't care less about Quiditch, unleashed upon him.

"Harry I'm really worried about you," she said after invading his room and waking him up from one of his few peaceful rests. "Before this year, I couldn't have gotten you to miss a Quiditch practice if I had told you that your life depended on it! But now, Ron tells me that this is the second time you've missed practice this year."

"Look Hermione, I don't have to come to every practice to be able to catch the snitch."

"But you're the _captain_. Shouldn't you be pushing the team or something like that?"

"No."

"Harry..."

"Hermione I don't CARE! I JUST _DO NOT_ CARE ANY MORE!"he repeated.

"Harry, if you have something you want to talk about..."

"Leave me alone."

* * *

Harry avoided Hermione all the next day. He could tell that she was on the hunt and he was terrified that she was going to find out more about him than he wanted her to know. Hermione had a way of figuring things out. She finally found an opportunity to talk to him alone after that evening's DA meeting.

"Harry," she said without even a greeting, "Ron and I are both really concerned about you."

"Nice to see you too, Hermione," Harry said.

"Excuse me," said a small voice from behind Harry.

_"Yes! Saved!"_

He turned around and looked at Caydon. "You had a question?" he asked.

"What is he doing here after class?" Hermione asked. She had begun to refer to the DA meetings as "class", something that annoyed Harry to no end.

"It's not a class! And he always stays after DA meetings to ask questions."

"Really? He's never asked me anything."

"Okay, I admit it Hermione! I hid him in the corner so that in case you started nagging me, he could come out and save me from you."

Hermione glared at him. "Funny."

"Um, should I leave?" Caydon asked.

"No, Hermione was just about to go."

"Okay, Harry," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "I'm leaving. But this conversation is _not_ over." She tromped out of the room.

Harry turned to Caydon. "Thank you so much! You're a life saver."

Caydon laughed. "She's very enthusiastic, isn't she?"

"Very," Harry laughed. Then he realized how light hearted he was being and that just seemed _wrong_ somehow, especially when talking to this kid. "So," he said, putting on a much more somber face, "what was your question, Snape?"

"Caydon."

"What?"

"My name. It's Caydon, you know."

"Oh. Yeah."

"When you call me 'Snape' you're thinking of my father, and since you don't like him very much, it bothers me."

_"Wait a minute. Didn't I just have this conversation?"_

"Uh, how do you know?" Harry asked.

"Your eyes."

Harry didn't ask what Caydon meant by that. This whole conversation was just a _bit_ too coincidental, however. "Have you talked to your father since yesterday?"

"What?" asked Caydon, confused.

"Nothing," said Harry wondering if this whole thing was some kind of weird mind game that Snape was playing with him. "I'll call you by your first name. I do _not_ have a problem with it," Harry finished, a little overzealously.


	6. Where Is Voldemort?

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews guys, I appreciate them.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any profit from this story.**

**Warnings for this Chapter: PG-13, self-mutilation and mild language.**

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**Chapter 6: Where is Voldemort?**

Harry didn't have the courage to show up to Defense class until the next week. He sidled into the classroom and sat down near the back, certain that Adele was going to give him hell for their disagreement over the DA. Adele, however, merely smiled at Harry as class started and, without lecture, assigned the class three questions about the basics of _Expelliarmus_ which Harry finished in five minutes. Harry looked around uncomfortably, he hadn't sat beside Hermione and Ron today and he was unsure of what to do as everyone chatted around him. Pansy Parkinson was sitting next to him and Draco Malfoy was sitting next to her. If this had been Snape's class then Malfoy would have already been goading Harry, he was not nearly so bold since neither Crabbe nor Goyle had come back to Hogwarts for the sixth year, but he still never missed an opportunity to harass Harry during Potions or even in Care of Magical Creatures. In Adele's class, however, Malfoy usually left Harry strictly alone.

Harry sighed, wishing that he had never decided to show up to class and began to leaf through his Defense book in boredom. After a moment, however, Adele came and sat down beside Harry, smiling at him ingratiatingly.

"Hello Harry," she said in a placating voice.

"Er. . . hi," said Harry warily.

Adele reached out and placed one of her hands on Harry's hand on the desk. Harry jumped in surprise and tried to withdraw his hand, but Adele held him firmly.

"Harry," she practically _purred_, "I so hope that you aren't upset with me for our little disagreement."

"Um, no," said Harry blushing. People were starting to look at them.

"I was just so oversensitive. Just between us, some of the staff here are simply horrid people and I was a bit on the defensive about them undermining my teaching."

"The... umm... staff," Harry muttered vaguely, wishing like anything that the floor would open up and swallow him.

"Oh, just certain teachers," Adele sniffed.

"_She's talking about Professor McGonagall," _a small voice inside Harry's head whispered. _"You should be angry right now."_ But Harry was much to embarrassed and confused to be angry.

Adele leaned in close began speaking in a rather loud whisper. "I do want us to be friends Harry. I hope that you don't hold that little incident against me. Let's let bygones be bygones?

As Adele leaned in even closer, Harry began to gag on her cloying perfume. He choked and then sneezed several time.

"Are you alright?" Adele asked pulling out a green silk handkerchief and handing it to Harry. Harry held it to his face, but unfortunately, it was also liberally doused with the perfume. Harry sneezed violently and hastily handed the handkerchief back to Adele.

"Ugh... yeah," said Harry between sneezes. "I think I'm allergic to your perfume."

Harry heard several people around him snicker. Adele stiffened but waited without comment until his sneezing fit subsided. Harry noticed that she didn't take his hand again.

"So forgive me?"

"Er... sure. Of course," mumbled Harry, not sure what else to say.

"Excellent," Adele said with a small smile. Then she leaned in a actually gave Harry a kiss on the cheek. Several of the boys in the class made rather rude noises at this. Harry blushed even more furiously.

"_Please God, just let her walk away."_

Harry's prayers were answered as Adele got up and slowly walked to the front of the room, her high heels clicking loudly on the stone floor. Harry sighed in relief and the looked around to see several of his classmates still snickering at him. He quickly glanced over to see how much Malfoy was enjoying this little moment, only to find that Malfoy's face looked, if possible, even redder than Harry's.

"_Don't know what he's blushing about. He didn't just get kissed by a Professor."_

* * *

"So, I heard that you're sleeping with Professor Adele."

Caydon had a way of announcing things in a blunt little manner, but this was really a bit much. Harry nearly choked, since they had just been discussing Defensive Charms after DA meeting, this sudden change in topic was a bit offsetting. So the more outrageous rumors had trickled down to the first year?

"Um, no. She just kissed me on the cheek during class yesterday or something. It was really gross. I hate her."

Caydon grinned"I thought it sounded a little far-fetched. I don't like her much either. She's creepy."

Harry frowned. There were a lot of words that he might use to describe Adele, but "creepy" was not one of them. Well, at least not "creepy" as an eleven year old would define the word. "Where did you hear that?" he asked.

"My friend Lydia was telling me about it. And these boys in my dorm, Rick Powers and Corbin Reynold were talking about it too."

"Well you probably shouldn't listen to the rumors that your friends hear about me because by the time it gets down to first year, most of it has got to be untrue."

Harry expected Caydon to give his characteristic soft giggle at that, but instead his face darkened. "They're NOT my friends, those boys," he whispered vehemently.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Harry, taking in Caydon's flushed face. "I just thought– "

"I know. But they're not."

"Do they. . . tease you?" Harry asked, thinking that this must be the case or else Caydon wouldn't be so obviously upset.

"You could say that."

"Why?" asked Harry softly. He couldn't easily imagine why anyone would be cruel to Caydon. The boy was so easy to get along with.

Caydon shrugged. "Lots of reasons, I guess."

"Like..." Harry prompted.

"Because I'm so small. Or because I know the answers to stuff in class a lot. Or because of who my father is. Or for no reason at all." Caydon's lower lip trembled as he finished speaking and he looked away from Harry.

"That's horrible. You should tell a teacher."

"Are you kidding? Then they would just hate me ten times more!"

"It must be pretty bad. You seem really upset."

"It's not _so_ bad," Caydon tried to affect a light mood and failed utterly. "I just wish that they wouldn't try to make everyone else in the year hate me too."

"Does everyone in your year hate you?" Harry asked in shock. How could anyone hate Caydon?

"Well, not like _they_ hate me, obviously, but everyone sort of stays away from me. Except for Lydia. Lydia is my best friend."

As if on cue, Lydia herself walked into the room. Caydon and Harry turned to look at her as she shuffled slowly to the front of the room, where they were standing. She shot a shy glance at Harry before pulling on Caydon's sleeve irritably. "Caydon," she whined, "you promised to work on Charms homework with me. Remember?"

"Oh. Yes, I remember. I'm coming. See you later, Harry."

"Caydon," Harry interrupted, not nearly finished with the conversation they were having before, "are those boys in the D.A.?"

"Ye – no," Caydon stammered. Harry gave him a dubious look. "Okay, yes," he said reluctantly, "but you can't do anything to them, Harry. They'll just get so mad."

"Oh you mean _them_," huffed Lydia, catching on, "they're–"

"Drop it Lydia," Caydon warned her. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Caydon cut him off. "_Goodbye_ Harry. Oh, and good luck on Saturday."

"Saturday?" Harry asked vaguely.

"You know. . . the first Quiditch match, against Ravenclaw."

"Oh... yeah." Harry had known the date of the first Quiditch match for months, but it had never seemed so soon.

Harry wanted to talk to Caydon some more, but by the time he remembered what he had wanted to say, Lydia had pulled him out of the room. He felt a little less sympathetic toward the boy when he heard the two children whispering on the way out.

"_Well_? Is he?" asked Lydia.

"No, he's not," Caydon answered and the two of them dissolved into giggles. Harry rolled his eyes. For a moment he had completely forgotten about the fact that the whole school was currently talking about him and his Defense teacher.

* * *

"Hermione, can I see that?" Harry asked the next day at breakfast when he saw Hermione reading over the _Daily Prophet_.

Hermione instinctively lowed the paper, trying to hide it from Harry. Harry had let his subscription to the _Daily Prophet_ expire some time ago and Hermione had since seemed reluctant to let him read her copies, perhaps picking up on the fact that reading articles about Voldemort's activities upset Harry. Harry had expected that he would hear about any more attacks by Voldemort around school, but since term started, he had heard precious little. He had distinctly seen "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" splashed across the front page of the paper in Hermione's hand. Harry grabbed across the table trying to take the paper from Hermione.

"All right! _All right_!" she said. "I suppose I should show it to you anyway, it's good news of a sort." She handed the paper over to Harry who opened it eagerly and began to read.

**Where Is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?**

_As many of our readers have observed, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers have been oddly silent since early September. This strange lack of activity has many within the Ministry of Magic baffled, after a summer filled with attacks. Some Ministry officials speculate that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead and his followers disbanded, but others take a darker view of things._

"_We believe that he is merely biding his time," comments an unnamed Ministry Law Enforcement official. "He and his Death Eaters had been growing steadily stronger, it stands to reason that this lull in criminal activity could indicate a larger, more organized attack in the future. . ."_

Harry looked up from the paper. "So there haven't been any attacks lately?" he said in an undertone to Hermione.

"No, not since about the first week of school. It's the oddest thing," she replied. "All this Death Eater activity building over the summer. . . and then nothing."

"So no sign of Voldemort at all?"

"Very little, unless... Harry have you had any dreams lately?"

Harry frowned. Now that Hermione mentioned it, Harry realized that he _hadn't _had any dreams relating to Voldemort lately. He had attributed this to his relative success in Occlumency, but could it have another reason? "Well no, I haven't," he said, "but I'm not _supposed_ to be having these dreams, remember?"

"Yes, but I just thought that if you had been having dreams it would be a definite indication that Voldemort is still strong?"

"You don't actually believe all this crap about him being dead, do you?"

"No. . . I think that it's much more likely that he's planning something."

At that moment Ron came and sat down beside Harry. "Hey, mate," he said, "don't forget Quiditch practice this evening. It's the last one before the game on Saturday."

"Right, right," said Harry distractedly making a mental note to be sure and make it to this Quiditch practice – he had missed so many. But then he immediately went back to discussing Voldemort's whereabouts with Hermione.

* * *

At Potions class that afternoon Harry noticed that the Slytherin who had come into Snape's office during his Occlumency class – Darius, was sitting hunched over his notes in one corner of the room, near, but not beside of the other Slytherins.

"What's he doing in here?" Harry whispered to Hermione as class started. "Isn't he in 5th year?"

"Yeah," Hermione's voice had an edge of jealousy. "I bet you anything Snape is letting him take Advanced Potions or at least sit in on the class. He's supposed to be _really_ talented at Potions."

"Potter," Snape hissed from behind Harry. Harry jumped, he hadn't realized that the Potions Master was there. "If you and Miss Granger are _quite finished_ with whatever fascinating conversation you are having, I think we will start class."

Harry rolled his eyes. He really thought that was unfair, Snape hadn't even started lecturing yet. Although, admittedly he and Hermione were the only people talking – Snape's mere presence usually being enough to command total silence.

"In the next month we will be brewing a series of potions which all require burned or charred ingredients," Snape began his lecture. "For this reason, today we will be brewing a simple potion which has the effect of a light fire on whatever it touches, called the Quickburn Potion. Many may question the usefulness of this potion. Why not just use am actual fire, magically generated or no? However, this potion has the advantage of predictability. Brewed properly, it will always produce the same results, it will not die out and need to be recast, and you can control where it does and does not burn much more easily than a fire or even a hot poker."

Harry yawned. _"Sounds even more boring than the potions we usually slave over."_

"This is a fairly simple potion and I expect most of you to brew it with no trouble. However, I must warn you to be exceptionally careful, a few drops of this on your skin would be most unpleasant, difficult to heal naturally, and impossible to heal magically."

"_Most unpleasant..." _

Harry snapped abruptly out of his bored state and raised his hand. His classmates looked at him oddly. Asking questions or volunteering information in Snape's class was a bit unusual for anyone. For Harry to do it was extraordinary. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had raised his hand in Potions class or even _if_ he had ever done so.

Snape glared at Harry as though he had just blown up a caldron. "What Potter?" he sneered.

"Sir, if we _were_ to have an accident and spill some of this on our skin, what would be the effect? I mean would it burn clean through our skin or could it be fatal or – "

"If you exercise some caution in my class for a change then you'll never have to find out." Snape said smoothly.

"But if it did happen."

"It would depend on the amount!" Snape snapped in exasperation. "If you poured a couple of liters of it over your head then I have no doubt that it would be fatal."

"But a couple of drops on an exposed arm..."

"Would not be greatly harmful. But trust me Potter, it is _not _something that you want to experience so do try to be careful. Now if you are done interrupting the class with pointless hypothetical situations I think we will get down to business."

Harry followed that potion's instructions with a concentration that even the best students could find enviable. Snape was wrong, Harry _did_ want to experience the burning potion on his skin.

* * *

Harry went directly up to his room after Potions class and found it empty. He sighed with relief, he needed very much to be alone and he thought that he had just time enough to try out the (for once) perfectly brewed potion that he had surreptitiously pocketed after Double Potions. He took out the small phial of liquid and examined it closely. It was black and thick with a barely detectable red sheen running through it.

"_Perfect, at least as good as Hermione's potion," _Harry thought. He was starting to understand why anyone could find brewing potions fulfilling – something he had always wondered about. There _was _a certain satisfaction in seeing the finished product before you in a well brewed, and useful potion. Harry knew, however, that Potions class would never really be for him.

Harry undid the button on his sleeve and slowly rolled it back. He examined his arm. He always did this before cutting, it was never enough to merely begin cutting, first he had to examine the previous damage, touching each new imperfection on his skin gently. Lately, Harry had been searching for new ways to hurt himself. He had begun to think that doing it the same way every time was rather like always eating the same food. He had tried using different tools to cut himself, even tried burning himself with a candle, but none of it seemed to quite do the trick. This new potion though. . . Harry was very optimistic about it.

Harry carefully opened the phial and took a dropper (also stolen from the Potions Lab) from his pocket. He filled the dropper and then with agonizing slowness, allowed a single drop to fall. For a moment he saw the drop suspended in midair, shining like a small onyx, then it collided with his arm. For just an instant the liquid was cool on his skin, then it began to burn, dissolving into the tender flesh. Harry gasped, though the pain was not great. The shock of the burning sensation was something completely new. Harry let a few more drops of the delicious liquid fall onto his skin, closing his eyes at the sensation it created. He was sure to let some of the potion fall across his cuts. Then he stopped stopped, wanting to conserve the potion for when he actually _needed_ it. Exhausted, Harry fell back onto his bed where sleep almost instantly took him.

"Harry! Harry!" A voice was calling his name, an angry voice.

Harry half opened his eyes. "What?" he muttered groggily.

"What are you doing up here asleep?"

Harry awoke fully to find Ron standing above him looking exceptionally angry. Harry hastily hid his arm behind his back, the sleeve was pulled down, but the cuff wasn't buttoned, so it might be possible for Ron to see some of his arm. Luckily, Ron seemed to have other things on his mind.

"I can't believe you sometimes!" he yelled.

"What?" asked Harry, befuddled. What could Ron possibly be so upset about?

"Quiditch practice. The last one before the game against Ravenclaw tomorrow. You missed."

Harry smacked himself on the forehead. "Oh, oops. Sorry Ron, I really meant to be there."

Ron's face turned red and he turned away from Harry in disgust.

"What? Is it that big a deal? Why don't you just tell the others that I got caught up and. . ."

"You're the captain!" Ron burst out. "The team needs you to have your head in the game. Can you imagine what we would have been like last year if Angelina missed every other practice?"

"I never asked to be captain!" Harry said, his voice beginning to get louder.

"Yeah, well you are. Look, you may not care if we win, but it is really important to the rest of the team. Don't you care about anyone but yourself?"

"Oh, yeah. Quiditch is just the number one thing on my mind right now," Harry sneered. "The world will somehow come to an end if we don't beat Ravenclaw."

Ron's face hardened. "Oh I forgot," he said sarcastically, "the great Harry Potter has much more important things to worry about than stupid Quiditch games. _You_ don't need to practice, do you? Practice is for all us losers who haven't had our names splashed all over the papers."

"Yeah, I really love having my name in the _Daily Prophet_," Harry drawled. "They are just _so_ complimentary."

Ron huffed angrily, but didn't say anything to that. After a moment, Harry tried to sooth things over with him and forget some of the more vicious things that Ron had said. He really _should _have been at practice.

"Look it will be fine," Harry told him. "How much do I really need to practice to catch the snitch? We'll beat Ravenclaw, they're not that good, especially with Cho Chang as Seeker."

Ron looked at him doubtfully but he gave Harry a small smile nonetheless. "I hope you're right Harry."

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Coming Soon: Chapter 7: A Memorable Quiditch Match**


	7. A Memorable Quiditch Match

**A/N: Please excuse me if I mangle the game of Quiditch in this chapter. I don't like sports, and the Quiditch chapters were never my favorites in the books. I'm going to be writing this fic faster now that I'm out of school. Read and Review!**

**Disclaimer: Yay, I remembered to put one this time! I do not own Harry Potter or anything you recognize in this fan fiction. Thank you JKR!**

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Chapter 7: A Memorable Quiditch Match

When Harry awoke the next day, he felt the familiar knot in his stomach that he always experienced on the mornings before Quiditch matches. Harry smiled to himself, it was somehow comforting to know that he could still feel this combined nervousness and excitement. That he could still get an emotional response from Quiditch. 

Harry went down to find Ron sitting in the Great Hall with an expression on his face that Harry knew must mirror his own. Harry was grateful that his friend no longer felt the paralyzing nervousness that he had experienced last year, and which had seriously hindered Ron's abilities as Keeper. Instead, Ron now smiled at Harry.

"Going to catch that Snitch today Harry?" he asked loudly, smiling even wider.

Harry grinned at his friend, it was good to know that Ron still had some confidence in him or at least was pretending too in public. "You know it," Harry said, purposefully cocky. "You just concentrate on blocking those Quaffles!" Ron tore off a small piece bacon and threw it at Harry, his aim was off however and the bacon soared over Harry's head and hit Hermione, who had walked up behind him, square on her cheek where it stuck. Hermione peeled the offending slab off her face with a look of upmost distaste and glared at Ron.

"Honestly, you two," she snipped, sitting down beside Harry. "How old are you?"

Harry looked over at Ron to exchange their usual looks of annoyance at Hermione's mothering, only to find the redhead blushing furiously. "Um, I think we're just nervous about Quiditch today," Harry thought of a cover for their behavior fast after glancing at Ron.

"Regressing to childhood?"

"I wouldn't say that . . . " Harry said, but a look at Hermione told him that she was teasing, which was a rare thing for her. "Oh. Funny."

"Anyway, being a little nervous is a good thing, but you shouldn't let it influence how you act. You'll just end up. . . . "

"_Oh please, someone make her stop," _Harry thought desperately, Hermione's lectures were becoming more and more of a bad thing for him.

Just then he caught sight of Caydon and Lydia walking past. "Hello Caydon, hello . . . Lydia," Harry said, waving desperately at them. Ron gave him an odd look and Caydon arched an eyebrow, but the boy came over.

"Hi, Harry," he said. "Good luck today."

"Yeah, everyone is saying that you always win Gryffindor the matches," added Lydia. "I made Caydon and me these Gryffindor scarves to wear on the days of Quiditch matches."

Harry actually took a moment to notice what the children were wearing and noted that they were, indeed, wearing truly atrocious knitted red and gold scarves. Harry thought that they must have been Lydia's first attempt at knitting. At least the girl's scarf fit her well, Harry strongly suspected that if Caydon's scarf hadn't been wrapped rather too many times, it would have trailed the ground. Caydon was half smiling, as if he knew what an amusing picture they made and didn't care in the least.

"Uh, yeah. They're nice Lydia," Harry managed.

"Very lovely," Hermione commented kindly.

"Thank you!" said Lydia brightly. "We'll be going now," and taking an end of Caydon's scarf as though it were a leash, she pulled him along after her. Harry wondered how long Caydon could go before he tripped over the ragged fringe and fell on his face, the boy could barely manage to walk down the hall without tripping over his robes. Harry smiled and went back to his breakfast.

"Isn't that Snape's kid?" Ron asked with an odd look on his face.

"Uh, yeah," Harry said absently.

"And are we buddies with him now?" Ron said, somewhat sarcastically.

"Ron!" Hermione's voice was warning.

"Well . . . I mean, come on. It's not just that he's Snape's son . . . that kid is weird!"

"He's not weird," Harry said with a bit more venom than he meant. Why should he get so upset on Caydon's behalf? Ron was his best friend and what he had said wasn't really that bad – to tell the truth, Caydon _was _sort of weird. It was like he was both older and younger than other kids his age. But the way Ron had said the word made it sound like a horrible insult.

"Yes he is," Ron retorted. "He says really creepy things and he's always staring."

"Staring?"

"Yes, some people have a staring problem. Where they always look at you really intensely."

"Ugh."

"Exactly. And that Snape kid definitely has a staring problem."

"Well, maybe. But he's still a cool kid. What's the matter? Afraid he'll replace you as my new best friend?" Harry teased.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Terrified."

* * *

As Harry flew out onto the Quiditch pitch, he began to wish that he had shown up to practice more. He felt really out of sync with the team and he could swear that even his Firebolt was moving slower. Harry looked at Cho Chang directly across from him, Cho smirked back at him. 

"_Ouch, I guess that was the ex-girlfriend look," _Harry thought.

A moment later, the Snitch was released and Harry watched it buzz around his head for a bit before it took off and disappeared. Harry thought it was frustrating, the way the snitch would often fly around the seekers before a game, as though teasing them and then quickly disappear from sight.

The game started and Harry felt that familiar rush that always accompanied playing in front of the whole school. Soon, however, it was replaced by a single-minded focus on the game around him and on catching that little golden ball. Even the new announcer's voice (a girl from Hufflepuff whom Harry didn't know) faded into the background.

The game was going splendidly, Ravenclaw couldn't score a point and Gryffindor soon had thirty. Harry flew lazily about, searching for the snitch. Ron made a particularly nice save and Harry gave his friend a thumbs up. Just then he saw it – the snitch, buzzing about just under Ron's feet. Harry made a dive for it, but Cho saw him and happened to be much closer. Harry cursed himself for not noticing her earlier. He leaned in further on his broom, reached out his hand, grasping and closed his fingers around – thin air. Cho had caught the snitch.

Harry was in a slight daze as he landed. He had never _really_ lost before. Sure, there were times when he lost because something strange happened to him – like in third year with the dementors – but he had never just lost. He watched the Ravenclaw crowd erupt into cheering, but couldn't stand it for long and headed straight to the locker room.

Harry slammed open the door, threw his broom across the room and kicked over one of the benches in frustration.

"Easy there, _champ_," came a voice from behind him, "I would think anyone would have more respect for a Firebolt."

"Why don't you just shut the hell up, Ron?" Harry shouted.

"We really could have won, too," Katie Bell walked in talking to Ginny. They spotted Harry and stopped talking abruptly. "Oh, hi Harry," Katie said guiltily, "didn't see you there."

"Gee, you mess up one time and all your friends turn against you," Harry said loudly.

Katie flushed. "Sorry Harry."

"Do _not_ apologize to him," Ron fumed. "You were right. We should have won. If The-Boy-Who-Lived here weren't too good to come to practices we would have won!"

Harry felt like punching Ron. He even envisioned it – his fist connecting with Ron's freckled nose. Instead he took a deep breath.

"Next time I'll come to practice, okay? But no Seeker, no matter how good is going to catch the Snitch every time. There is a certain amount of luck involved, you know," Harry knew in his gut that he could have played better if he had been at practice, but he wasn't about to admit that now.

Ron just smirked at him. "Oh no, this couldn't be your fault, could it?"

"Stop talking like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm some kind of bigheaded moron!"

"Then stop acting like one."

Harry gave his friend a scathing look. "I seem to remember you screwing up a couple of games last year."

Ron's face turned bright red. "You know, we would have done better with Ginny as Seeker today."

Harry turned to glare at Ginny. "Hey, I didn't say it!" she objected quickly.

"Well you can just 'do better' with her from now on, because I quit!" He stomped off toward the door, oblivious to the wails of his teammates behind him.

"You can't just quit," Ron followed him, "the team needs you!"

"Funny, I thought I just heard you say that you would be better off without me."

"You are such a selfish git!" Ron called after him.

Harry went back up to the castle, ducked into the first abandoned classroom that he could find and had some fun slicing himself up with a piece of broken glass taken from a bowl that he found and smashed up. After a few minutes however, he decided that he had better go and tell McGonagall that he had quit the Quiditch team – a daunting task – before she found out from someone else. He mumbled an excellent cleaning charm that he had taught himself for such occasions. Seeing that the bleeding had mostly stopped, he did a quick _Reparo_ on the bowl and headed out.

Harry walked up to Professor McGonagall's office and knocked boldly on her door. He didn't think that she was all that likely to be _in_ her office right after a Quiditch match, but it was worth a try. He nearly fell over backwards when Snape opened the door.

Snape made a noise in his throat that sounded suspiciously like an "eww". "It's Potter," he announced distastefully, opening the door to allow Harry in.

Harry stepped in to find McGonagall sitting at her desk and looking at him rather coldly. He reminded himself that he _did_ just mess up the Quiditch match for Gryffindor. Snape sat down in one of the chairs in front the desk.

"Can I help you, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Um, yeah," Harry stuttered, "I sort of need to talk to you."

"Go on then."

"I sort of need to talk to you . . . alone."

"Professor Snape and I were in the middle of discussing important school business," she said, shooting a slightly irritated glance in Snape's direction. Harry wondered what if the "school business" was actually Order business. He knew that Snape and McGonagall got along as well as could humanly be expected, but the fact that Gryffindor just lost a Quiditch match had to make things tense between them. They were incredibly competitive about House points and especially about Quiditch, although Harry had no idea why – he didn't think that either of them actually enjoyed the game that much and he had the distinct impression that Snape despised it. "If you can't talk about whatever it is in front of him, then you'll just have to come back later," his professor went on.

"Fine," Harry snapped, suddenly angry with her. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm quitting the Quiditch team, Professor."

"Get out Severus," she said, but Snape didn't budge an inch.

"He might as well stay, _now_," Harry said.

But she seemed to have forgotten about Snape anyway. "You are not quitting the team, Potter," she said. "We don't have a chance of winning without you."

"I didn't do that good today," he pointed out, "and Ginny is a really good Seeker."

"But not as good as you. No, you're not quitting."

"Yes, I am. You can't make me stay."

"Don't take that tone with me, Potter," she warned. "I've done a lot of favors for you."

"What, and now you're calling them in? What is this? The mafia?"

McGonagall raised her eyebrows at this and Harry was sure that she didn't know what the "mafia" meant, in fact, when he thought of it, _he _didn't even know what exactly the "mafia" was.

Then Snape spoke for the first time since Harry entered the room. "Well, I never knew that Gryffindor was so. . . . coercive, in its team selection methods," he said smoothly with the slightest emphasis on the word 'coercive'.

"I thought I asked you to leave, Severus," she said through gritted teeth.

"You didn't ask, Minerva, you told. You were perfectly willing to discuss a student's private concerns in front of me, but not a threat to your treasured team. But I'll go wait outside like a first year until you and Potter conclude this all important discussion," and with that he swept out of the room.

"Listen, Potter, I know that you feel bad right now about the game. But you're emotional and will most likely change your mind. I must insist that you stay on the team until the next match – the one with Slytherin – and mull it over. It would at least give your teammates some time to get used to the idea also."

Harry frowned, Professor McGonagall normally did not seem nearly this concerned about people's feelings and he suspected that every bit of what she had just said was a ploy to get Harry to play against Slytherin and maybe keep him on the team. On the other hand, she really had done a lot for him over the years, he could do this one thing for her and for his teammates.

"Fine but I'm not going to change my mind. And I want to resign from the captaincy right now because I am a really horrible captain."

"Of course," she replied in a tone of voice that made Harry wonder if she hadn't been planning on removing him from this position all along, "I will select a new captain within the next week."

"Thanks," Harry said awkwardly. "I really am sorry about this, Professor. I _did_ decide it in a moment of frustration . . . but I also think that it may be what's best for me right now." He wanted to go on, but how to explain to stoic Professor McGonagall that what had once been a fun game had become a drain on his life, a role that he must live up to at all costs or risk his reputation, his emotional well-being, and even his friendships? When she didn't say anything else, Harry left the room quickly.

He almost ran into Snape outside the door. "Did you resign?" the man asked him smugly.

Harry was a little surprised at being asked. "Er, I have to play one more game," he said.

"Oh, poor little _Harry_," he sneered. Harry regretted ever asking the man to call him by his first name, he only used it when he wanted to be cruel or else tacked it onto the end of a statement sarcastically. The rest of the time, it was still "Potter" or "Mr. Potter" if Snape were in full teacher mode. "He might actually have to play one more game for his adoring fans after coming to the stunning realization that he _can _actually lose at something," Snape finished his insult.

"I've lost a lot of things, _sir_." Harry snapped. "And why are you harassing me?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, why did you start this whole confrontational conversation with me? If you hate me so much why go out of your way to say anything to me at all?"

"Is 'confrontational' the vocabulary word of the day, Potter?"

"Whatever. You can't even get out two words without throwing an insult at me."

"I certainly don't have to justify my actions to _you_. Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence."

Harry rolled his eyes. Snape's actions were increasingly just rolling off him these days, but every now and then he still said something that got to Harry. "Disappointed that I'll be playing in the game against Slytherin, I guess? Maybe you could talk Professor McGonagall into letting me quit before then? I certainly don't want to do it."

Snape seemed to consider this and for once, Harry thought he knew what the man was thinking. If he agreed to help Harry, it would be like he was doing Harry a favor, on the other hand, he really wanted Slytherin to win at Quiditch. At any rate, he managed to think of the most infuriating reply that was possible. "Maybe I will talk to her Potter, then again, maybe I won't. It certainly won't matter much either way as Professor McGonagall would die before she would take advice from me about her Quiditch team."

"Right," said Harry, somewhat sarcastically, "I'll just be going now, Professor." Without waiting for an answer, Harry walked swiftly down the hall, smiling slightly to himself. He had the feeling that he had _almost_ got the better of Snape in that argument, but then he just _had _to show vulnerability and ask a favor.

Harry wasn't ready to face the Gryffindor common room yet, so he decided that he would go up to the Defense classroom and look around to see if he could get any ideas for the next D.A. meeting. As he walked up to the tower, however, he heard Adele's voice coming from inside the classroom which seemed considering that the woman was never in either her classroom or her office if she could help it. Harry had turned around and started back down the stairs (he definitely did not want to see Adele) when he heard the voice of the person she was talking to and realized that it was Draco Malfoy of all people.

This was certainly interesting. Harry moved back up to the door, it was ajar and he managed to nudge it open enough to look inside. He saw the two of them standing quite close together and whispering urgently, he couldn't make out most of what they were saying, but he caught Malfoy mutter "someone's going to find out about you". At that moment, Adele turned her head and Harry could have sworn that she locked eyes with him. She suddenly grabbed Malfoy roughly by the hair and kissed him full on the lips. Malfoy quickly pushed her away, his face bright red. "What are you . . . "

Adele's eyes flicked in Harry's direction. Malfoy turned his head and spotted him. Harry snapped his mouth closed, not having realized that he was standing there with it hanging open before.

"Potter!" Malfoy exclaimed. Adele giggled and Malfoy looked at her irritably.

"Um, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt anything," Harry said a bit maliciously. He slammed the door closed and ran back down the stairs laughing to himself. The idea of Malfoy and Adele together just seemed so absurd and funny to him. Although it was odd the way that Adele hadn't kissed Malfoy until _after_ she had seen Harry. Harry was truly baffled by that one.

Harry was in a good enough mood now to go back up the Gryffindor common room. He found it nearly empty, but Hermione was sitting in the corner with an open book in her lap. Harry went and sat down beside her.

"Have you seen Ron?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, closing _Arithmancy: Magical Mathematics_.

"And did he say anything about me?"

"He had a few choice words."

"Oh." Harry was silent for a long while. "I really am going to quit the team," he said after a while.

"Do you think that's for the best?"

"Yes, I do actually. I like Quiditch, it's a great game, but playing for Gryffindor has just become too much for me, in a lot of ways."

"I see. You'll have trouble getting a lot of people to understand that."

Harry knew that by "a lot of people", she really meant Ron. "I don't know if things can ever be the same between me and Ron again," he admitted. "I mean, I want to be friends with him – that is if he still wants to be friends – and I think that we can be friends, but I don't think that I'm the same person that I was when I was a kid. It'll never be like it was then, it's like we're not on the same wavelength anymore or something."

"Harry," Hermione said, "there's nothing wrong with changing and growing – even growing apart a little. You just need to understand that Ron and I are always going to be there for you. I know that Ron is mad at you now, but . . . "

"_I'm not growing. I'm falling. Further and further and I can never come back."_

"I know, Hermione, I get it. Hey, guess what I just saw?" he attempted to change the subject.

"What?"

"Malfoy snogging Adele up in the Defense classroom!"

Hermione's brow creased. "Really?" she asked. "Well that certainly strikes me as odd. I got the impression that Malfoy wasn't really that fond of Adele."

"What gave you that idea?"

"The looks he gets in her class sometimes, and the fact that he never speaks or does anything during her class."

"Well that could also mean that he fancied her, right?"

Hermione frowned. "Well, maybe, but I sort of thought that he found her a bit much. Like you do."

"Whatever, they were kissing. Malfoy won't be able to bother us anymore, now that I have this to hold over his head – whatever the reason was."

Hermione looked thoughtful.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm going up to my room, Hermione. Thanks for the talk. Did you stay down here just to talk to me?"

"No," Hermione answered glumly, "Parvati and Lavender are up in my room having an infantile argument and I came down here to get away."

"What is it this time?"

"Apparently Parvati disappeared during the Quiditch match, leaving Lavender to search for her for two hours. Have I mentioned how much I despise sharing a room with those two?"

"Several times, yes. Bye, Hermione."

**

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A/N: This story should start to pick up very soon. In the next few chapters some very interesting things are going to develop. Hmmmm... ****

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Coming Soon: Harry visits Hogsmeade and makes an interesting purchase, he has cause to go to greater lengths to hide his habit. Snape uses an _Accio _spell in an interesting setting. Caydon may not be all that Harry thought. **


	8. The Book

**A/N: From now on, I will be answering and responding to reviews in the reviews section. I don't particularly like it when authors do this a lot, but it seems like the best option. I like it even less when authors respond to reviews in the story itself and it's just too much to put in my biography and I want anyone to be able to read them, so emailing is out of the question. Thank you all for the great reviews, here is chapter 8!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, places, objects, or spells that you recognize.**

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Chapter 8: The Book

Ron left the dormitory very early the next morning and carefully avoided Harry for the rest of the day. He didn't show up for the D.A. meeting. Harry took this as a bad sign.

"He just needs time, Harry," Hermione had told him. "You know, to blow off some steam."

"Well I'm getting pretty sick of putting up with him," Harry said, angrily.

An odd expression crossed Hermione's face at this.

"What?" Harry asked her.

"It's just. . ." she hesitated, "that's exactly what Ron said. About you I mean."

"What!" Harry blew up. "_Him_ sick of _me_. I'm not the one who decided to shun my friend of six years because of a Quiditch match!"

"I know, I know," said Hermione, trying to calm him. "I think he just meant that sometimes your – your, um . . . "

"My what?" Harry snapped.

"Your, um, mood swings can be hard to handle."

"I don't have mood swings."

Hermione looked at him seriously. "You do, Harry. You go from being really happy to being really depressed or angry very easily."

"So does _Ron_," Harry fumed. "Well, not the depressed part, but the angry part."

"Ron does have a quick temper," Hermione admitted, "but _you_, Harry," she paused and took a deep breath, "Have you ever thought that you might be . . . bipolar or manic-depressive?"

"What the hell is that?" asked Harry, thinking that from the sound, it couldn't be anything good.

"It's a type of psychological disorder with basically the symptoms I just described. Although I'm sure it's more complicated than that. I bet you would feel better if you saw a therapist or maybe got on some kind of medication."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You think I'm crazy?" he practically screamed.

"No, Harry," she said soothingly. "I just think that you would be a lot happier if you got some help, that's all."

"Some help? You must think I'm completely nutters to want me to see a psch – what do you call them. That's only for crazy people!"

"Well, that's the wizard mentality. But it doesn't have to mean that you're crazy. Muggles go to psychologists all the time when they're just having difficulty in their personal lives or when they've had rough childhoods. That kind of thing."

"So, let me get this straight, Ron goes off about some stupid Quiditch game and _I'm_ the one who's lost his marbles?"

"This isn't about that," Hermione objected, "I've wanted to talk to you about this for a long time. And I don't think that you've 'lost your marbles'. You've been having really debilitating mood swings since last year, and they've only become worse lately."

* * *

If Harry hadn't already been at odds with Ron, he would have stopped speaking to Hermione. As it was, he felt that he needed at least one good friend and he couldn't really be that choosy at the moment. 

Harry went through the next few days in a stupor. He wasn't particularly angry at Ron and he wasn't even depressed (he hadn't hurt himself once during this time), he was just exhausted. He didn't feel. Even that week's D.A. meeting wasn't enough to break him out of his zombie-like state. He rushed through the lesson with the younger kids quickly, but then realized that he couldn't leave until he taught the upper years and he couldn't do that until Hermione stopped yammering to them. He knew that Hermione wasn't about to stop anytime soon, so he let the members amuse themselves until he caught a boy dropping what appeared to be a crab with about twelve pincers down the back of Caydon's robes. At this point he set the entire class to practicing wand technique for defensive shielding spells – the most boring thing he could think up. Harry liked the older years much better – he hated feeling like an evil professor and hearing the children's disappointed groans was enough to make him want to strangle one of them.

The next day he skipped D.A.D.A class which wasn't unusual, but he also skipped Transfiguration because he didn't want to deal with McGonagall looking at him coldly or Ron glaring at him or Hermione giving him concerned looks that said that his behavior only confirmed that he was insane to her. He did, however, go to his Occlumency lesson because he knew that Snape would be absolutely livid if he missed.

Occlumency, however, was the last thing that Harry wanted to do right now. He hadn't practiced since before the Quiditch game and somehow Snape could always tell when he hadn't practiced. He also had been having problems with the subject once again. The trouble was that Snape was always latching onto some emotion that was at the very back of his mind even when he was occluding and using it to gain a foothold. He was even capable of manipulating Harry's emotions at times. From there he could sometimes gain access to Harry's memories which were much more effective tools. Harry simply had no idea of how to keep Snape from perceiving some passing emotion. He also disliked the way that Snape would attack his mind with no warning. He could only occlude successfully when he had time to prepare.

It didn't help that when Harry walked in, Snape greeted him with "Well, if it isn't the little Quiditch star". Harry tried to ignore this and began the process of occluding immediately because he knew in a moment Snape would try to attack him unawares. Sure enough, after a few seconds he heard "_Legilimens_!"

He could feel Snape searching through his mind, looking for something to use against him. He determined to keep his mind clear, not let the man find anything. After a moment, however, he felt Snape withdraw from his mind altogether. Harry looked at his professor warily. Had that been a success or did Snape have some other reason for drawing back?

"Too long," Snape said shortly.

"Huh?"

"You went too long without trying to push me out," he said very slowly, as though he were explaining to a three year old, "the sooner you can push me out, the better. Don't wait until I have a firm grip and can begin searching – unless you intend to choose and manipulate what I see, and that is fairly advanced."

"I was just trying to clear my mind so you couldn't see anything."

"You have become fairly successful at that. But clearing your mind is only the first step. You can't keep your mind a blank slate indefinitely. It is impossible. Well," and here Snape's tone became sarcastic, "maybe not impossible for _you_, Potter. You have to try to push me out before I even have the _opportunity_ to see anything. _Legilimens_."

Snape unexpectedly intruded into Harry's mind, full force. Harry tried pushing back, but soon Snape was sifting through his memories, going through memories of his not so fun childhood and quickly moving from one to the other as though discarding them. Eventually Harry (for he had all but forgotten that Snape was inside his head) came to the one memory that he dreaded above all others.

Sirius looked so shocked as he fell back through the Veil, as though he couldn't comprehend what was happening. He fell, slowly, slowly, slowly and Harry could feel his own heart breaking as he watched his godfather disappear. Then the whole thing started moving backwards rapidly – like when Dudley pushed the rewind button on the VCR. Sirius emerged again and the whole scene repeated and then repeated again. Harry couldn't breathe, his heart was pounding, he thought that he was going to die. Suddenly, it came to him what was happening and he expelled Snape from his mind with great force.

He found that he was lying on the floor and screaming incoherently. He jumped up, a bit unsteadily and if he hadn't felt so weak would have surely lunged at Snape. He had never felt so furious. "YOU – YOU BASTARD!" Harry shrieked. "HOW DARE YOU SHOW ME THAT! HOW DARE YOU! DON'T YOU HAVE EVEN ONE SHRED OF HUMAN COMPASSION!"

Snape appeared to be shocked by this sudden outburst. "Potter," was all he managed to get out, in a warning tone.

"DO YOU ENJOY WATCHING SIRIUS DIE OVER AND OVER!" Harry raged on.

"Potter," Snape grabbed his shoulders, trying to calm him. To his horror, Harry realized that tears were rolling down his cheeks. That just made everything so much worse and Harry let the tears consume him until he was taking great sobbing breaths.

"You said that I was 'having fun' when I looked in your pensieve that time," he choked out. "Was that you having your fun just now? WAS IT?"

Snape appeared, for once, to be at a loss. "Don't be ridiculous! I just . . . "

"I HATE YOU! I DON'T CARE IF I NEVER LEARN OCCLUMENCY, I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME! HOW COULD YOU . . . "

Snape smacked Harry across the face. It wasn't a cruel smack, as Harry would have expected, but a light slap, meant to get his attention, to bring him back to himself. "Harry, calm down," Snape said firmly. "I wasn't attempting to upset you. Well, I _was_ looking for a particularly upsetting memory to use as a tool to weaken you and gain control of what I see – but I didn't know that you would turn into a RAVING LUNATIC at that memory and I was not 'having fun'. Clearly you have a lot of unresolved grief about your godfather's death. I could NOT have been aware of this."

"I killed him," Harry cried, "I killed him and you make me watch over and over and over . . . " Harry dissolved into sobs and would have fallen to the floor, had Snape not steadied him and set him down in a chair. The man seemed awkward and unsure of what to do in this situation.

"Why don't you go back up to your dormitory?" he suggested. Harry looked up, tears staining his face. Snape seemed to reconsider this. "On second thought, why don't you just lie down on the sofa," Snape said a word that Harry didn't catch and a sofa folded out of the wall – the only wall that wasn't covered with jars of icky things or books. Apparently Snape was the type who practically lived in his office. He took Harry's arm and led him over to the couch. "You just lie there for a moment," Snape said, uneasily.

Harry curled up into a fetal position on the sofa and continued to cry softly, no longer caring what Snape would think of him, or even bothering to be angry with the man. All he could think of was Sirius and how he was the one responsible for his death, he caused Sirius to die. Sirius out of hiding that day for one reason – because he loved Harry. Loving Harry had killed him, just like it had killed Harry's parents.

Snape brought him a Calming Drought and Harry drank it methodically. He was a bit surprised, however, when Snape transfigured a large book into a fluffy pillow and handed it to Harry. Harry laid his head on it and turned his back to the older man, his weeping dying down a little.

"Well, I guess you can just stay down here until you regain your composure and then you can return to your dormitory." Snape was still awkward. "I'll just leave you, then," he said and turned to go. "Oh and if you touch anything in my office, then you _will_ regret it, Potter."

Nothing ever made Harry so sleepy as a bought of yelling followed by a long cry. He soon fell asleep. When he woke up, he got the feeling that it was very late, despite the fact that Snape's office did not have a window or any kind of time telling device. Snape must have come back in at some point, because Harry found that he was covered with a large, rather ratty blanket. Harry quickly shrugged it off and hurried back up to Gryffindor just in time to make curfew.

* * *

The next day, Harry stayed late after Potions class to beg forgiveness. It was hard on his pride, but now that he thought about it, he really didn't think that Snape was trying to be particularly unkind when he chose that memory – he was just trying to teach Harry Occlumency. The man didn't have a lot of natural tact or sensitivity, but he had been almost understanding – for Snape anyway. This was what gave Harry to courage to approach him after class. This and the fact that he needed to take Occlumency and he still didn't want to take it from Dumbledore. 

"Sir?" Harry asked tentatively.

Snape didn't look up from where he was cleaning up the Potions lab. "Yes?" he asked.

"I – I just wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday. I shouldn't have said those things to you."

"No, you shouldn't have," Snape said quietly.

"I am sorry, sir. I hope that you will still let me take Occlumency and I don't blame you if you want to take a lot of points off of Gryffindor, although it seems a shame to punish my whole house because I was so. . . . rude."

"That's rather the purpose of the points system, Potter."

"Right," said Harry and then he looked at the floor, saying nothing.

"Potter," Snape sighed at last, "if I were going to stop giving you lessons, don't you think that I would have informed you of it by now?"

Harry shrugged.

"If you still want to continue lessons with me . . . but rest assured that you will learn Occlumency, either from myself or Professor Dumbledore . . . then I will continue to give them to you. With the understanding that behavior such as you exhibited will not be acceptable in the future."

"Yes sir," Harry said. "Just . . . "

"Yes?"

"Could you try not to use memories of Sirius again?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that I'm likely to do so after that little display? I did not know that you . . . blamed yourself for the man's death. In fact, I rather thought that you blamed me."

That was as close to an apology as Harry had ever heard out of Snape's lips. "What – what gave you that idea?"

"I _am_ skilled at Legilimency, Potter. Besides, I wouldn't even have to be with those looks you were giving me at the end of last year."

"I did blame you at first," Harry admitted, "but that was just an excuse to get out of blaming the person who was really responsible – myself."

Snape sniffed. "I rather thought that Bellatrix Lestrange was responsible," he said mildly, "or perhaps Black himself," he added as an afterthought.

Harry got a bit angry at the last statement, he didn't like Snape having a go at Sirius, but he managed to refrain from blowing up.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you, sir," he said to change the subject.

"Ask?"

"Yeah. When you invade my mind in our lessons, I can always tell. I can feel you looking through my memories, sensing my emotions. But I think that there are other times when you manage to use Legilimency without actually saying the incantation, you just maintain eye contact and you use Legilimency without my even realizing it. Why haven't I learned to defend against this?"

"A number of reasons," Snape answered, "it is true that there is a form of Legilimency that can be used in the way you described, but it is not nearly as powerful. I can get an inkling of what is transpiring on the surface of your mind in this way, mostly the kind of thing that a very perceptive person would pick up from your facial expressions anyway, but delving into your memories or innermost thoughts and feelings is impossible. Hopefully, as you learn more Occlumency, you will naturally be able to tell when someone is using any form of Legilimency. This is also not the type of Legilimency that you need to learn to defend against the most. The reason that you are taking the lessons is because you have a special connection with the Dark Lord. You need to learn how to protect your most secret thoughts, memories, and emotions from him. By the way, have you had any dreams lately?"

"Um, no," Harry said, quite truthfully.

"Hmm, well apparently he has been quiet on all fronts," Snape said, almost to himself.

"So you don't know anything about his plans either?"

"Why would I, Potter?"

"Well aren't you – I mean, don't you," Snape gave Harry a _look_, "oh, never mind," Harry finished.

* * *

The first Hogsmeade visit of the year was the next Saturday and Harry seriously considered not going. Ron still wasn't speaking to him and he suspected that Hermione would rather hang out with Ron than with him. He went anyway, however because a trip to Hogsmeade was just too good to miss. For a while he hung around at Honeydukes with Seamus and a couple of seventh year Gryffindors that Seamus had befriended lately, but he soon became disgusted with them, as their idea of a good time seemed to be making fun of anyone who walked by who they didn't like or whom they thought looked or acted strange. He excused himself and walked out onto the street. 

"_Now what?"_

Harry wandered aimlessly for a bit, not really caring to talk to anyone. Suddenly, Hogsmeade seemed very overcrowded and juvenile and Harry regretted coming at all. He vaguely strolled off to an end of town with fewer students, not really paying attention to where he was going, only knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he wanted to get away from the crowds.

At some point during his roaming, Harry realizedthat he had entered a pretty unsavory part of the village. There were no longer any students whatsoever, in fact it was nearly deserted. The few people that Harry could see appeared to be quite shady characters. Apparently, this was Hogsmeade's version of Knockturn Alley. Harry pulled his black cloak close around him and looked around for a way back where he had come from, he was quite sure that he wasn't allowed in this part of town. There were rules about which streets Hogwarts students were allowed on during these trips. Harry had just figured out where he turned wrong when he saw Draco Malfoy walking directly toward him. Malfoy was alone, for a change and luckily appeared to be distracted or he surely would have seen Harry. Harry cursed under his breath, he couldn't let Malfoy see him here. Thinking quickly, he ducked into a shop and waited for Malfoy to pass.

"_I bet he comes here practically every Hogsmeade visit,"_ Harry thought, glancing surreptitiously out the shop window, watching his classmate stride by.

"Excuse me, young man," said a voice behind him. Harry looked around to see the shop keeper, a wizened old man, with bright blue eyes looking at him inquiringly. "Can I help you find something?"

"Um, no," said Harry, making sure that his fringe was pulled low over his scar, "I was just . . . browsing." He looked about and realized that the shop was a small bookstore which seemed relatively harmless. He strolled over to one corner, picked out a book and pretended to look through it. Harry winced, it appeared to be a book of particularly nasty curses.

"You interested in that book, lad?" the old man croaked. Harry looked around, realizing that he was the only customer and this was why the man's attention was so focused on him. "Only two Galleons," the shopkeeper continued.

"Um, no," Harry said hastily, putting the book back on the shelf, "I think I'll just be . . . "

"I think I know just the book for you, lad," he said, his eyes shining oddly. He hobbled back behind the counter, pulled out a book from somewhere underneath and laid it out on the counter top for Harry to see. Harry thought it only polite to take a look, although he was longing to get out of the store.

Harry could feel the shopkeeper's keen eyes on him as he moved to inspect the book. It was relatively small and black, but not black as pitch, the color rather had an odd hint of luminescence about it. The cover was crackled as though it had been burned. There was no trace of the title either on the cover or the side of the book. Now that Harry looked at it, he was strangely fascinated. He touched the cover, gingerly, and found that the book radiated with an odd warmth, as though a dull fire burned within, a fire which, although slight, penetrated to Harry's very bones. Harry shivered and drew his hand away. Suddenly, the book flew open as though blown by a strong wind, but that was of course impossible in this musty little bookshop.

Harry touched the page, gently and looked at the spell. After a moment, he realized that it was a spell the same or very similar to the one that Umbridge had used last year when she made him do "lines". It enchanted a quill to scratch into the user's skin when used. It came to Harry that this spell could be very useful. Just as he was looking over it and really getting an idea of what it was about, the pages of the book were upset again and it opened to a page, slightly further along in order. This page was a potion, a potion that appeared to be somewhat similar to the burning potion that he had learned in Snape's class, only this one was made specifically for use on human skin. Harry didn't even want to think about why a potion like this would have been invented, but this also would be useful – he was almost out of the stuff that he had taken from the potions lab earlier, and he had lost his notes about brewing it. Harry flipped through the rest of the book and found, to his astonishment that it was absolutely full of spells that would be valuable for self-mutilation.

"_How did that old nutter know?" _Harry thought uneasily.

"Is this the book that you were searching for?" the man asked, softly.

"Yes . . . yes," Harry answered distractedly, "I'll take it. How much?"

"Oh, I'll give you that book for free, sonny."

"Brilliant," Harry said, still slightly uneasy.


	9. Debts

**A/N: See responses to reviews in the reviews section. Here is chapter nine. I'm trying so hard to get this mostly finished before HBP, don't know how well I'll succeed though.**

**Warnings: Pg-13 for this chapter, cutting and language.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am not making a profit off of this story. **

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Chapter 9: Debts

The night after the Hogsmeade visit, Harry decided to try out one of the spells in his new book. He didn't particularly feel like cutting, he just wanted to attempt one to see if it would work. And anyway, Harry no longer needed that huge a reason to hurt him himself. Anyway, it had become a habit and he'd even done it once out of sheer boredom. Harry pulled the bed curtains close and cast a silencing charm around his bed, although he didn't think that he would need it, it was so late that everyone was sound asleep. He busily read the quill spell by the light of his _Lumos_. He had been curious about this one ever since Umbridge had used it on him. It was rather difficult to see, especially as the words were written – not printed, but it looked basic enough – any of the first years probably could have managed it with some careful studying. Harry didn't know what to call the spell, as it was not titled and there were two separate verbal parts to the casting of it. In fact, Harry saw, flipping through the book, that none of the spells were titled and there was no table of contents, index, glossary of terms – the spells were just scattered willy-nilly throughout the book, not even sorted in terms of type or difficulty or alphabetized.

The first part of the spell involved turning the quill into a device that would draw blood when touched to a surface other than the skin. The second – and Harry saw, far more complicated – part of the spell was localizing it to ensure that it would cut the person who was doing the writing and not anyone else in the immediate area, also to make sure that it cut a specific part of the body – otherwise it could show up anywhere.

Harry took an old quill out of his bag which was setting on the bed beside him. After a few minutes of careful studying he whispered _Cruento Inscriptio _and made the required slashing motion over the quill with his wand. The quill turned dark black and Harry could have sworn that the tip sharpened a bit. Then he cast the localizing spell to his upper left arm with much less certainty that he had got it right.

Harry took a piece of parchment out of his bag and laid it on top of the closed book. He slowly made a long mark across the top of the parchment and felt the sharp pain – but not in the place he expected – on the back of his left hand.

"_Oh bugger, I got the localizing spell wrong. Well, no matter, it will disappear after a moment."_

Harry made another long cut, but this one appeared on a place next to the last instead of going over top of it, this confused Harry somewhat since Umbridge's quill had written the lines over top of each other. He made two more cuts across his hand and then got an idea. He made a mark across the _bottom_ of the paper and, sure enough, it ended up on his upper arm. Apparently his localizing spell hadn't been local enough.

It was then that Harry realized that the marks on his hand had, for whatever reason _not_ disappeared.

* * *

_Harry was following young girls through the school's corridors. At least, the architecture looked vaguely like that of Hogwarts, although Harry did not know where he was. The girls were dressed in Hogwarts robes and walked slowly in a line. The corridor became ominously darker as he continued to follow them until Harry could barely see at all. At the end of the hall, they came to a doorway that looked somehow odd to Harry, though he couldn't put his finger on why. One of the girls reached her hand out to open the door and . . . "_

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning, knowing that he had a strange dream that may have involved Voldemort because his scar ached dully. He sat still for a moment, trying to remember the dream. Then he heard his dorm mates getting ready for class around him.

"_Oh hell_! _My HAND!"_

Harry looked down at his hand and noted, miserably, that there were still four long cuts across it.

"_How the hell am I going to explain this? Hermione will figure me out so quick!_"

Harry thought fast.

"_Okay, I could just skip classes for today and then sneak off to the library to see if I can look up a charm to hide the cuts. No, that won't work, I've already missed so much that Hermione will be sure to come up here and check on me. I could say that Hedwig clawed me up. . . but they don't really look like an owl did them and everyone knows that Hedwig is better behaved than that. Damn, why didn't they go away? Okay, I could try to keep my hands hidden. . . nah, I'd never pull that off. I could . . . QUIDITCH GLOVES!"_

It was the answer. Players often wore minor pieces of Quiditch gear to classes to show team spirit or after their team had won a game and although it was against the dress code, the teachers seemed to have an unspoken agreement that students wouldn't be punished for displaying House spirit in this way. Of course, it would seem a little suspicious on Harry since he had never done it before, and since Gryffindor lost the last game and he was going to quit the team, but even Hermione would never guess his real reason for wearing the gloves. He wouldn't have to take them off to do magic either. Seeker's gloves were much less cumbersome than gloves for the rest of the team. Luckily, Harry (being upset) had worn his Quiditch gear up to his room after the last game and had neglected to take it back down to the change room.

Harry got out of bed and began rifling through his trunk, careful to keep his left hand hidden.

* * *

"Harry, why are you wearing those gloves?" Hermione, predictably asked him before Defense class.

"Oh, I thought that I would show a little support for the team. You know, so they would know that I don't actually hate them or anything."

Hermione seemed to buy that and looked at Harry sympathetically. "Harry, I don't think that Ron is really all that mad at you anymore, I'm sure that if you made the first move to make up with him . . . "

"Did you hear about anything odd happening last night, Hermione?" Harry interrupted.

"No. Why?"

"I think that I may have had a. . . . dream last night. About the school, but I can't really remember it at all."

"Really?" Hermione looked concerned. "Well, I haven't heard anything."

* * *

Ron was at the next D.A. meeting. Harry gave his friend a tentative smile, but Ron merely rolled his eyes and looked away.

After class, however, Ron came up to him and began talking.

"You remember at the beginning of the year, when we said we were going to keep an eye on all the Death Eater's kids?" Ron asked shortly.

"Yeah," Harry said, thinking about what a stupid idea that was.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that I saw that Snape kid talking alone with Malfoy. It just seemed kind of odd to me since they are in different Houses and way different years."

Harry frowned. "Well, that is weird. But if Snape is a spy or whatever, then Caydon would have to at least _pretend_ to like Malfoy, wouldn't he?"

Ron looked as though the wind had been taking out of his sails. "I guess," he said, "it was really suspicious though. See you at _Quiditch practice_ tomorrow."

"What do you mean? We'll see each other before that?"

Ron looked at Harry coldly and walked away.

"_I guess he's still mad at me, even if he did talk to me."_

Harry looked around the Defense classroom.

"_Something seems different about today. . ."_

Harry felt like he had forgotten to do something. He straightened up the classroom absent-mindedly.

"_Caydon. . . he didn't stay after D.A. today. And he always does. Oh, bugger, I hope that he didn't hear Ron talking about him and then get offended or something."_

When Harry went back up to the Gryffindor common room, he found Caydon sitting alone, apparently studying. Harry sat down beside the boy to talk.

"Hey, Caydon."

"Oh, hello Harry," Caydon said, a bit distantly.

"So are you mad at me too?" Harry asked, half jokingly.

"What? No. Why would you ask that?"

"You didn't stay after D.A. like you always do."

"Oh, that. I'm not angry with you, well, maybe just a _little _bit, but that's not why I didn't stay."

"Why then?"

"Well, you know last lesson, you stopped that boy from putting that scorpion thing down my back?"

"Yes. Didn't you want me too?"

"Well, no. They got really mad at me and then they told a bunch of people that it was my fault that you gave us that boring lesson because I had to whine and you heard me."

"What was I supposed to do? Let the brat do that while I was supposed to be in charge?"

"No. . . . I just thought that if I stayed after and they knew about it then it would be one more reason for them to call me a suck up or a teacher's pet."

"Oh, okay. So you're not mad at me for any other reason?"

"Why else would I be mad at you?"

"_Because Ron and I had a conversation in which we might have implied that you are up to something with Malfoy and I'm afraid that you overheard."_

"I. . . um . . . " Harry sputtered as Caydon looked at him expectantly, "I sort of went ballistic on your father the other day . . . "

"Oh, well I didn't know about that? What about?"

"I don't know, I was just being stupid, I reckon. He was actually pretty cool about it though."

"Then why would _I _be angry about it? In fact, how would I even know about it?" Caydon raised an eyebrow.

Harry evaded the question. "I don't know why he was so cool about it actually . . . I mean, no offense or anything but he's been really hard on me about doing _a lot_ less than that."

Caydon shook his head. "He probably thought that he owed you."

"What? Owed me for what?"

"I. . .er . . . I sort of told him that you had been really nice to me. He has this . . . thing . . . about repaying debts."

"But I'm not nice to you. I mean I _am_, but I just treat you like I would anyone else."

"Not everyone does, you know."

"Hm. So what, now he thinks he has to be nice to me?"

"Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far. But he might think that he owes you one break. Seemed kind of annoyed about it, actually."

That certainly explained a lot, he would have found it exceedingly odd if Snape had suddenly turned nice for no reason. Not that he had even been all that nice to Harry, just decent, like . . . "

"_Like he would treat anyone else . . . "_

Still though, Snape bringing him a pillow to lay his head on and covering him with a blanket when he fell asleep seemed a bit much. Harry suspected that there were multiple motives involved, just like he suspected that some small part of Snape had been getting his jollies by watching Sirius die, even if his primary motivation was to teach Harry Occlumency.

* * *

Harry looked for a charm to hide the marks on his hands, but he really didn't have time to search thoroughly, he had a ton of homework. The next day, he was still stuck wearing his gloves. He was so busy searching after classes the next day that he ended up being late for Occlumency.

"Six minutes, six points, Potter," Snape said as he walked in. Harry rolled his eyes. The git could have just taken off _five_ points. What could the difference be between five and six minutes?

"Yes, sir," Harry said, "how many points did you take for . . . you know, last time," said Harry who was fairly sure from what Snape had said last time that he was going to take points.

"Thirty," said Snape shortly.

"_Well, thirty isn't so bad. He could have very easily gone for fifty. I called him a bastard."_

"Okay," Harry said.

"So glad you approve, Potter," Snape said sarcastically, "_Legil – _Potter, take those ridiculous things off at once."

"What?" Harry asked, and then noticed with a sinking feeling that Snape was looking at his gloves.

"_Damn it! I should have known that he wouldn't let me wear Gryffindor Seeker's gloves. He didn't notice them in Potions, though."_

"Sir, I don't . . . I don't want to."

Snape sneered. "You will not wear those things when you are receiving instruction from me. Take them _off_!"

"Sure . . . it's just I forgot my wand up in my room, I'll go get it . . . "

"You won't be needing your wand today."

"Oh, right. Then . . . I'll just . . . I, um."

"_Accio Potter's gloves_."

Harry quickly closed his hands into fists, but the gloves wriggled off anyway and flew into Snape's grasp. Harry wanted nothing more than to whip his hand behind his back, but he knew if he did this then Snape would _know_ that he didn't want it to be seen. He surreptitiously turned the back of his hand toward him, hoping that Snape wouldn't notice.

Snape however, seemed to be perfectly aware that something was up. He grabbed both of Harry's hands and almost immediately saw the four long, precise cuts. He looked at Harry in surprise, but (Harry thought) knowingly.

"Hermione's cat, Crookshanks," he tried to laugh it off, "such a vicious animal. Embarrassing, really . . . "

Snape said nothing, but grabbed Harry's chin roughly, jerked his head upward and looked directly in his eyes.

"_Close your eyes. Can't let him see. Don't think about cutting, think about cats."_

Harry knew, however, that his self hurting must be written across his thoughts right now as clearly as if it were in big, bold letters.

Snape let go of Harry's face Harry looked at the ground. Then, his eyes never leaving Harry's face, he grabbed Harry's arm. Harry tried to yank it away, but Snape gripped him so hard that he thought his arm would bruise. Still looking at Harry's face, intensely, Snape ripped his shirt sleeve open and pushed it up Harry's arm.

* * *

**A/N: I have pretty much this whole story planned out, and I don't usually write stories based on suggestions. However, one thing that I have yet to figure out is how (or even if) Hermione and Ron should find out about Harry's cutting, anyone got any ideas? Note: A scene like this one isn't planned for a long time, but I need to start working it out.**

**Coming Soon: Snape's reaction. Something bad happens to Caydon. Caydon and Snape (gasp) are actually in a scene together. **


	10. Normal?

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews. Look for responses in the reviews section!**

**Warnings: Some mention of cutting and violenceand some language. Probably just PG for this chapter though.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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Chapter 10: Normal?

Harry stood still, barely breathing as Snape looked down at his wounded arm. Snape's face was impassive, but having someone else see his injuries made Harry feel horrible.

"_Oh my God, I am such a freak! How could I ever think I was normal? How could I think THIS is normal? I really AM crazy."_

He never really felt like a freak while he was doing it . . . he was to busy thinking about other things. And afterwards, he was usually out in the world doing normal things and what he did in his bedroom, all alone, had no bearing on his real life. It was just something he did to cope when he was alone – no one else knew about it, so it was only half real in his mind. Indeed, every time he rolled back his sleeve he was so fascinated with the cuts because a small part of him expected them to not be there when he checked.

Harry tried to twist his arm away from his professor, but Snape's continued to grip his arm tightly.

"Let me go," Harry gasped, "you're hurting me!"

Harry expected a sarcastic retort to that, something along the lines of "and you certainly wouldn't want _that_, would you, Potter". Snape continued to say nothing, however, and only tightened his grip a bit. Only after Harry had stopped struggling, did Snape slowly release his arm. Snape turned his back on Harry.

"Well," he said finally, something odd in his voice, "come along then, Mr. Potter." Snape stepped toward the door.

"What? Where are we going?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"We are going to go talk to Professor McGonagall about those marks on your arm and then we are going to see Madam Pomfrey about healing them."

"What!" Harry froze. "Are you planning on telling the _entire_ staff of Hogwarts about this? If Professor McGonagall finds out about this, then I'll _die_, I'll just die . . . "

Snape turned around at this and gave Harry a strange look.

"It . . . it's just an expression," Harry said, realizing what the look was for, "everyone says it. Didn't mean anything by it."

"I'm sure," said Snape, shortly. "Professor McGonagall is your Head of House, Mr. Potter. Whenever a teacher learns that a student has a personal problem, it is supposed to be taken to that student's Head of House."

"Oh, come on, do you think that's going to help?" Harry asked. "Can you imagine McGonagall understanding or. . . . or being able to help me? Not that I don't like Professor McGonagall, but she . . . I don't want her to know."

Snape said nothing

"Listen, sir," Harry said, trying to button up his shirt sleeve and realizing that Snape had ripped the button off. "Why don't you just forget that you saw this? Surely, you don't care whether or not I make a few little cuts on my arms?"

Suddenly Snape seemed to get very angry. "I didn't spend all this time looking after you, making sure that your stupidity didn't get you killed to have you puncture the wrong vein – either accidently or on purpose – and bleed to death, Potter!"

"I'm not going to do that! I have it under control!"

"Do you?" Snape snapped, grabbing Harry's arm, "What about this cut?" he touched a long gash on Harry's wrist. "Perilously close to that vein in your wrist, don't you think?"

"Maybe. I wasn't thinking, okay."

"Really? Doesn't sound like being in control to me."

Harry shivered. "Maybe," he admitted, "But God, I can't stand to think of their faces, if they found out. The pity, the horror. Having people who care about me think that I'm crazy."

"Professor McGonagall has been a Head of House for thirty years. I am sure that she's dealt with this type of thing before."

"In _Gryffindor_? Not bloody likely."

"Gryffindors can have problems too. As you have demonstrated."

"I bet that you've dealt with type of thing before too though, huh?" Harry asked quietly, hesitantly. "You're a Head of House also."

"Perhaps," Snape said evasively.

"And I bet you've got plenty of healing potions lying around."

"Mr. Potter, are you honestly suggesting that _I_ try to help you with this?"

"I'd like it best if you could just forget about it," Harry breathed. "But I certainly don't want anyone else to know about it."

"I think it would be wise to have someone whom you trust and respect to talk to about this."

"No. . . . " Harry said slowly. "I think . . . " he collected his thoughts. "I think if someone has to know, then I don't mind so much that it's you. Because you don't like me. You don't have any expectations of me."

Snape gave Harry a dubious look.

"You're not going to feel disappointed or guilty or something," Harry tried to explain. "You can be objective about it. As long as you don't blurt it out to everyone in Slytherin or something stupid like that," Harry finished, thinking of what Snape had "let slip" about Lupin in third year.

"Do you think that I want to lose my job, Potter? I can't just tell this type of thing to anyone."

Harry said nothing. Snape gave a long sigh as though resigning himself. "Sit down in that chair, Potter," he said.

Harry sat down, Snape promptly left the room. Harry hoped that he wasn't going to get McGonagall or Pomfrey or (worse) Dumbledore. After a minute or two, however, Snape came back in holding some potion.

"_So now he's going to heal me?"_

"Take off your shirt," Snape said shortly.

Harry took off his shirt and looked down at his arms. He had never really looked at them as a whole before, he had always been focused on this or that cut, not on an entire arm. He was rather disgusted. His arms barely even looked like human limbs anymore. Snape pulled up a chair across from him.

"Hold out your arm," he said.

"I can do it myself," Harry said defensively, "I'm not a kid."

"I'm not going to allow you to do it sloppily or purposefully leave parts of your arms out. Hold out your arm."

Harry thrust his arm out, feeling very silly. Snape began to methodically apply a green, gooey potion to each of his cuts. With the number of cuts that he had, he would have thought it would have been easier to just pour the stuff over his whole arm, but this is not what Snape did. Snape came to a particularly nasty cut that looked infected.

"Not that one," Harry said suddenly. Snape looked at him in surprise. "It's my favorite," Harry said in a small voice.

Snape gripped his arm firmly and seemed to take some kind of vindictive pleasure in laving a large amount of the potion over this cut. Harry sighed.

"Why did you feel the need to do this?" Snape asked, still treating Harry's arms. "You have everything that a young man your age could possibly want. Isn't it enough for you?" Snape's voice was not sarcastic, Harry had the feeling that the man was asking him sincerely.

"I have nothing," Harry said angrily. "Everything that other teenagers get to experience, it's not for me. I don't want to talk about it."

"I see."

They were both silent as Snape continued to heal Harry's arms. Harry shivered again, it was cold in Snape's office without his shirt, despite the fact that he was wearing an undershirt. When Snape was nearly done, he began speaking again.

"I'm going to give you some of this potion and I want you to use it every day," he said, businesslike. "Your cuts and other injuries should begin to heal soon, although if many of them are magically inflicted, then I suspect that you will have permanent scars."

Harry hadn't thought of that. Would he never be able to wear short sleeves again?

"Although, you can probably find a spell to disguise them."

"Will you show me a spell to hide these ones on my hand?" Harry asked.

Snape snorted. "And give you a way to hide any that you may inflict upon yourself in the future? I think not, Mr. Potter."

"You will show me your arms at the beginning of every Occlumency lesson," Snape continued after a moment.

"_What_?" Harry asked. "No, no. . . . "

"And," Snape continued, as though he hadn't heard Harry, "if you continue to show signs of having harmed yourself, then I will be forced to tell Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore."

"You can't!"

"Then don't do it!"

After a moment Snape finished treating him and spoke again. "You will also go up to your room right now and bring me your razor, your pocketknife, whatever potion that you've been using to burn yourself like that and anything else you might have."

"But . . . "

"NOW, Potter."

"_I should have let him tell McGonagall after all. She probably would have just given me a stern lecture and some significant glances during classes."_

"Yes, sir," Harry said, hopelessly. He put his shirt back on and headed up to his dormitory. He took out the items that Snape had asked (there were only a few drops of the potion left), placed them in his bag and hurried back down to Snape's office. He wasn't too concerned, he could always just use one the many spells in his book if he ever needed it again. He could always cut his legs or other places. Snape couldn't very well strip search him at the beginning of every lesson.

When he got back, Harry silently unloaded the items from his bag and handed them, one by one, to Snape.

"This is a potion that you learned in my class," Snape commented.

"Where else do you think that I would learn to brew a potion?"

"Oh, I don't know. I thought that you might actually read a _book_."

"Are we going to do Occlumency now?" Harry asked, in exasperation.

"I think that we are already running several minutes late, actually."

"Oh _damn_!" Harry yelled. "Oh – I mean . . . sorry. I have Quiditch practice right now, so I've got to run."

"Five points off Gryffindor for language, Mr. Potter," Snape said smoothly.

Harry scowled. Surely Snape could give him a break, _now_? He didn't want to think about all this. He started to run out of the room.

Snape's voice stopped him. "Potter," the man said.

"Yeah?" Harry cringed.

"You could have things far worse, you know."

Harry bowed his head and walked out.

He showed up to Quiditch practice a few minutes late and found everyone sitting in a circle on the Quiditch pitch.

"What are we doing?" Harry asked, sitting down beside Ginny, his mind, understandably on other matters.

"Waiting for you to show up," Ron answered. "We were supposed to pick a new captain today and all the team members have to be here to vote."

"Oh, right," Harry said breathlessly. "Well, I vote for Ron."

"What?" Ron asked. "I've only been on the team for two years."

"Yeah, but the only people who have been on longer are me and Katie and neither one of us wants it."

"How do we know that you're not just saying this because he's your mate," Jack Sloper asked.

"Ron's the best choice," Harry answered defiantly, "he loves Quiditch, no one knows more about strategy and I would guess that he's willing to keep all you in line."

Ron blushed. "_I _couldn't be captain."

"I'll vote for Ron," Katie said, smiling.

"But . . . but . . . " Ron said.

"Who all votes for Ron as team captain?" Harry yelled.

One by one everyone on the team raised their hands. Harry smiled.

* * *

After practice, Ron found Harry alone in their room.

"Er, hi Harry," he said, running his hands through his hair, awkwardly.

"Hi," Harry said softly.

"So, um, why did you do that for me, even though we were fighting?"

"I wasn't lying when I said that you would make the best captain. Besides," Harry shrugged, "you're still my friend."

"Yeah. I am really sorry about some of the stuff I said to you before," Ron looked at him, hopefully. Harry knew that he couldn't expect a more eloquent apology than that.

"You were right. I was being selfish. If I wanted to quit the team, I should have just quit. I shouldn't have left everyone hanging like I did."

"So are you still going to quit?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Yeah," he said, "I didn't do it just to spite you, you know. This is what I need right now."

Ron looked at him keenly. "I don't really understand that. I mean, Quiditch was always something that you really liked. But I guess I won't say anything else about it."

* * *

Harry was in a good mood for the rest of the evening, it was so nice to know that he and Ron could be friends no matter what differences they may have. Later that night, however, Harry began to worry about Snape knowing his secret. It definitely complicated things and Snape was unpredictable, he could tell _anyone_. Harry still thought that it was much better than having his friends know and think he was a freak, however.

Worrying kept Harry up into the late hours of the night. Normally, in a time like this, he would hurt himself, but he thought it a good idea to at least cut down on the practice now. Harry began going through his possessions, looking for something to take his mind off of cutting. He came upon the Marauder's Map.

"_I've barely even looked at it this year,"_ Harry thought fondly, opening the map up and looking over it. When he couldn't go to sleep, he often made a game of looking for Filch or Snape wandering the corridors, Dumbledore was also often out late at night.

Harry's eyes wandered over the map, looking for people out in the corridors. He did a double take when he saw three dots together, up in one of the scarcely visited third floor corridors.

"_Did I see that right?"_

Three dots, two facing one, they were labeled Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, and Caydon Snape. Harry frowned, this was definitely worth checking out. Harry threw on his invisibility cloak and went to have a look.

Harry crept around the corner, trying to keep quiet so he wouldn't be heard. He found only Caydon, huddled up against the wall, sniffling. Was he _crying_? Harry hastily checked his map, no Malfoy anywhere in sight.

He stepped back around the corner and took off his cloak, so Caydon wouldn't see that it was an invisibility cloak. Then he softly walked up to the boy.

"Caydon?" he said softly.

Caydon jumped and looked up. Harry gasped, the boy was _hurt_, although it was hard to see by the light of Caydon's _Lumos_. His nose was bleeding, his robes ripped, and he had the beginnings of a black eye.

"H – Harry," Caydon stuttered.

"Did Malfoy _beat you up_?" Harry asked.

"What! No, why would you say that?" Caydon asked, still crying.

"What happened to you then?"

Caydon said nothing, just continued to cry softly.

"Come on, I'll take you to see Madam Pomfrey," Harry urged.

"NO!" Caydon cried suddenly.

"You need to be healed. I'm not just going to leave you here."

"Take me to my father, then," Caydon said, finally. "He will help me."

* * *

**A/N: Another cliffy! Reading over that, it has come to my attention that some of it could be interpreted in a slashy way. It is not MEANT to be, this is not a SS/HP story**. **Harry took his shirt off because I thought it would be really awkward if not impossible for him to roll both his sleeves up all the way. Still accepting suggestions about Ron and Hermione finding out, especially Hermione.**

**Coming Soon: Snape's reaction (again). Caydon has a secret. Harry ponders. **


	11. What Harry Saw

**A/N: Here's Chapter 11, enjoy! Read responses to reviews for Chapter 10 at the reviews section.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am not making any money off this.**

**Warnings: Language, darkish Harry. This chapter not too bad though.**

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Chapter 11: What Harry Saw

"Take you to your father?" Harry gaped at Caydon. For some reason, the concept was having a hard time sinking in. "Where would we find him?"

"Most likely in his quarters, asleep," Caydon sounded like he was trying not to show that he thought Harry was being rather dim tonight.

"Oh, yeah. Of course," Harry said. The idea of going up and knocking on the door to Snape's private quarters at well after midnight was about as appealing to Harry as facing a basilisk, but he could hardly just leave a hurt, distraught first year all alone in the corridor.

"You don't have to," Caydon said softly. "I can go down myself. I'm not an infant." Caydon tried to get up, but was unsteady on his feet and fell back.

"Of course I'll take you!" Harry exclaimed, helping Caydon up. "You don't think I'm _that_ afraid of your father, do you?" he tried to joke. He offered Caydon his hand and helped the boy up. "Is your leg hurt? You could lean on me. I could probably even carry you."

"I'm fine," said Caydon irritably, although he was, indeed, limping. "Look, you don't even have to come with me." Caydon sniffled at the end of this statement, he still had not totally stopped crying.

Harry took the boy's arm anyway, supporting his weight. Caydon's robes were ripped however, and fell back from his left shoulder. Harry noticed something odd on the place where Caydon's neck and shoulder met, it looked like something was painted or tattooed on the boy's skin. It was very small, but in vivid colors and looked something like a shield or a crest with some type of black reptile in it. Caydon noticed Harry looking and snatched his robes back over the spot, his normally rather impassive face showing a good deal of alarm. He took off down the corridor, Harry soon caught up with him and walked in front, reserving his questions for another time, preferably a time when Caydon wasn't bleeding.

Caydon limped along after Harry, not allowing Harry to support his weight even after he tripped and fell twice. Harry sighed, Caydon was clumsy under the best of circumstances, if Harry hadn't seen what he had seen on the map, he would have suspected that the boy had hurt himself by falling down a long flight of stairs or something. Once they got to the dungeons, Caydon told Harry the correct turns to take to reach Snape's rooms because Harry had certainly never been there before. Harry was nervous the whole time that they were going to run into Filch and he was skeptical about whether or not Snape would even be in his room asleep. How many times had he run into Snape while wandering the castle at night? When they came to the door to Snape's quarters, Harry looked over at Caydon imploringly.

"The password is . . . " Caydon started tiredly.

"Maybe we should knock," Harry interrupted, not wanting to barge into Snape's living quarters and get hexed into next week for his troubles.

"Fine," said Caydon, rather distractedly.

Harry marched up to the door and knocked boldly, not wanting Caydon to know how nervous he was. After some time, the door was flung open and Snape stood in the doorway glaring at Harry, looking very imposing despite the fact that he was wearing a grey nightgown.

"Potter," he said irritably, "I do hope that you don't imagine that I'm your twenty-four-hour therapist now."

Harry looked at his professor sheepishly and stepped aside so Snape could see Caydon standing behind him. Snape's mouth gaped open.

"Caydon!" he said. Then he turned to Harry, "What happened to him?" he asked furiously.

"Don't look at me!" Harry objected.

Snape stuck his head out the door and looked both ways down the corridor. "Get in, both of you," he hissed.

Snape led them both inside, lifted Caydon and sat him on a small, round table. He began to inspect the boy's injuries carefully, although Harry noticed that he kept Caydon's body almost completely covered at all times.

Harry looked around the room in interest. It wasn't at all like he would have expected Snape's quarters to be. It wasn't a dungeon cell with dark, icky things and Snape's coffin in the corner for him to rise up out of as Harry had always heard joked about, neither was it the opulent suite that was the stuff of Slytherin legend. The room was very plain, but not unpleasant. Everything was in brownish or beige colors, rather than the black or green that Harry had expected and the furniture was dull and serviceable.

"How did this happen?" Snape asked his son, shortly, ignoring Harry altogether.

"I. . . fell," Caydon faltered and caught his father's eye as though trying to communicate some sort of message.

"Ah . . . " comprehension dawned on Snape's face. "Don't cry Caydon," he snapped a moment later, "it's undignified for a boy of your age."

Caydon, who was, indeed, sniffling again, tried to put on a brave face, but burst into tears again. Snape rolled his eyes.

"_He's just a kid," _Harry thought. _"I would think that Snape could be a little more sympathetic to his own kid."_

"Potter," Snape said without looking at Harry, "go into my lab, second door down the hall and bring me back a bruise-healing potion, a wound-healing potion, and a calming draught – they're all labeled – and some bandages from under the counter. Don't touch _anything_ else," he finished, giving Harry a significant glance.

Harry wandered into Snape's small private lab and began looking for the requested itemsHe really needed to find a way to talk to Snape about what he had seen on the map (not that he intended to tell Snape about the map), but he didn't want to say anything in front of Caydon. Harry took out all the potions except the wound-healing one which he saw high up on the shelf.

"Sir," Harry called down the hall, "I can't find that wound-healing potion!"

"It's the middle top shelf, Potter!" he yelled back.

Harry waited a moment. "I still don't see it!"

Snape cursed and stormed down the hallway. "Honestly, how useless can you be?" he snapped at Harry as he walked in and took down the potion.

Harry closed the door and turned to Snape. "I wanted to talk to you about how Caydon got his injuries. I don't think he fell."

"Brilliant observation," Snape said sarcastically.

"Sir, just listen, I think that Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott roughed him up."

Snape seemed less surprised than Harry expected by this announcement. "And what led you to this conclusion, Mr. Potter?"

"I can't tell you, but I'm fairly certain. Look, I wouldn't lie to you about this. Caydon is my friend."

Snape looked less than pleased at this declaration.

"I'm sure that you can get Caydon to admit to it if you talk to him. Malfoy should be punished."

Snape looked at Harry sharply. "Mr. Malfoy will not be punished and you will not mention this to any of the other teachers," he said quickly.

"What? Why won't you punish him! Don't tell me that you're still going to favor him like you always do." Snape didn't need to answer, the look on his face told Harry that he was. "But you do believe me don't you," Harry's last remark was more of a statement than a question.

"I believe you," Snape said, walking out of the room.

Harry had always thought that the idea that Snape might owe him because he was nice to Caydon was a bit silly, but now he was beginning to see the logic in it. He had been really kind to Caydon and Snape still treated him like a fungus. Malfoy, on the other hand, had decided to beat up on Snape's first year child and Snape still wasn't going to do anything to him!

"Do you really care so little for Caydon?" Harry called after him and immediately wished that he hadn't. Snape turned around, red in the face, and absolutely livid. Harry thought was going to attack him or rage at him, like he had last year when Harry had looked in the pensieve. Instead, Snape took two or three slow breaths.

"You have no idea what you are talking about, Potter," was all he said, his voice dangerously low.

He turned around sharply and glided out of the room. Harry followed him through the hallway but stopped before he got to the front room, he wanted to give Snape some time to cool down.

"Caydon!" he heard Snape snap at the boy, "I thought I told you to stop crying."

"He . . . he saw," Harry just caught Caydon's words which were barely above a whisper.

"Saw what?" Snape asked. Caydon didn't say anything, but Harry assumed that he was making some kind of gesture.

"Who?" Snape asked in alarm. "Potter?"

"Uh-huh."

"Is that how you answer me, Caydon?"

"No, Father. I'm sorry."

"We'll discuss this later," Snape said in a low voice. "I am quite upset with you. Although, knowing Potter, he probably had no idea what it meant."

"What if he did, sir?"

"I said we would discuss it later!" Snape hissed. "He could be listening to every word that we're saying right now. _Stop_ crying Caydon. It's of no use now."

"Yes, Papa," Caydon sniffled.

"Good. I apologize for being sharp with you, Caydon."

"Yes, Papa."

"Potter!" Snape called loudly. "What are you doing in there? Not looking for any _potions_, I hope?"

Harry jumped. "No, sir!" he yelled, hastily walking back into the front living room. "Do you need me to do anything else, sir?" Harry asked meekly. "Caydon looks like he could use a glass of water." Caydon gave Harry a small smile.

"No, Potter," Snape said. "You just head back up to your dormitory before I remember to ask you why you were _out_ of your dormitory in the first place."

"Yes, sir," Harry said reluctantly. He had been hoping to get a better idea of what was going on.

"Potter," Snape said, his voice oddly strained, "I . . . thank you for bringing him here. You did the correct thing, for once. Oh, and if you tell anyone about this, then I will be _very_ displeased."

"Er . . . it was no problem, sir," he said, a bit confused by Snape's conflicting moods. "I won't tell anyone."

"_Why all this secrecy?" _Harry couldn't help thinking. _"I can understand Caydon not wanting people to know that he got beat up, but Snape?"_

* * *

Harry's full anger with Malfoy didn't really hit until the next day in Potionsclass. He couldn't stand the way the Slytherin just leaned back in his chair, cheekily, and got away with anything just the way he always did. Or the way that Snape ignored Malfoy cockiness. Things shouldn't be just the same! But what really made Harry angry was that it was brought home to him what Malfoy had _done_.

"_He beat up a first year," _Harry thought furiously. _"A very small first year. That's low even for Malfoy. The git, the absolute git. And poor Caydon."_

"Harry," Hermione whispered beside him, "pay attention. Snape's glaring at you."

Harry looked up and realized that Snape was looking at him angrily. "Five points off Gryffindor for daydreaming, Potter," he said.

"Snape is such a git," Harry complained to Hermione and Ron when over lunch.

"I don't know. You really kind of deserved it that time, Harry," Hermione said. "You _were _daydreaming."

Harry hadn't really been talking about that, but he couldn't tell his friends what had happened with Caydon in the Great Hall where anyone could be listening.

"Snape took points off Harry for 'daydreaming'?" Ron asked. "That is so dumb. As if anyone could stay awake during his boring lectures, anyway."

"His lectures aren't that bad, Ron," Hermione snapped.

"Wait. . . Hermione are you saying that you _like _Snape?"

Hermione flushed. "As a teacher, not as a person, Ron," she said.

Ron gave her an absolutely horrified look.

"What?" Hermione asked. "He may favor Slytherin unmercifully and be totally unfair in general, but he's not a bad teacher. A lot like McGonagall, really. _If _you bother to keep up, unlike you two, then you can really learn a lot in his class. He doesn't teach slackers well, though."

"If you can't teach the majority of the class, then you're not a good teacher, Hermione," Ron said, on his dignity.

"I'm going now," Harry said abruptly, _really_ not in the mood to listen to his friends bicker about Snape's teaching abilities. Harry personally thought that Snape was a horrible teacher and he was none too sure about how good a person Snape was.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione called after him at his sudden moodiness.

"No!" Harry shouted back.

By the time that Harry got back up to his room he was thinking about interesting ways to kill Draco Malfoy without anyone noticing.

"_I sure would like the little prick to have an 'accident' on the top of the astronomy tower,"_ Harry thought viciously while pulling books out of his bag, looking for his notebook so he could review his Transfiguration notes. He took out _the_ book and threw it on the bed, but it immediately opened itself back up so violently that Harry jumped.

Harry approached the book warily and began to read the spell on the page. At some point he realized, with a shiver, that it was a spell to make the person it was cast on exceptionally clumsy – exceptionally clumsy when in high places, that is. Harry felt like cold water had been poured down his back.

"_This is exactly what I was just thinking of doing to Malfoy!" _he thought. _"Well, not REALLY thinking, I wouldn't really try to kill Malfoy and make it look like an accident. Would I?"_

Harry slammed the book shut. This was very peculiar, he had read most of the book, including (he thought) the section where that spell was located and he had _never_ noticed that spell before. In fact, he had thought that the book only contained self-mutilation spells.

"_Creepy . . . "_

Harry resolved to talk to Ron and Hermione about the whole incident with Caydon as soon as possible.

* * *

**Coming Soon: The Trio figures out something disturbing about the Snape family. **


	12. Owned

**A/N: This chapter has taken a lot longer than I thought to write. I've had computer problems, issues with the chapter, and I've been busy. It's an important chapter though, hope you all enjoy! Thanks for all the reviews last chapter, check out responses in the reviews section.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Harry Potter series.**

**Warnings: Wow, I think this might actually be a G-rated chapter. We'll say PG, just to be safe.**

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Chapter 12: Owned

"What were they talking about when they said you 'saw'?" Hermione asked Harry after he told her all about the encounter with Caydon. He felt a bit guilty about talking her, he _had_ told Snape that he wouldn't tell anyone, but Hermione and Ron didn't count as _anyone_ in his mind.

Harry shrugged. "Beats me, I figured that he meant that I saw Malfoy beating him up."

"Hm," Hermione frowned, obviously not satisfied with this explanation, "maybe. But didn't you say that you saw something on Caydon's shoulder?"

"Oh, yeah. It was really weird. It looked like a shield or a crest. Do some pureblood families tattoo their children or something?"

"Not that I know of."

"I thought that maybe it was a fake. I mean, it seemed real, but I didn't get a really good look at it and those fakes are really popular items in the joke shops right now. Especially with the younger kids."

"But why would he put it where no one could see it?"

"Do I look like I can read his mind? Maybe he wanted to test it out."

"He doesn't really seem like the fake tattoo type to me."

"Who's got a fake tattoo?" someone asked behind him. Harry jumped, but it was just Ron coming over to see what Harry and Hermione were talking about in the common room.

"Caydon," Harry answered, "although it could be real."

"Who's Caydon?" Ron asked sitting down, obviously not that interested.

"Snape's son."

"Oh. Right, now I remember," Ron yawned.

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's really strange. It's like a black dragon or lizard on like a family crest or something."

Ron sat up suddenly, as though very interested. Harry and Hermione noticed the change immediately.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Well. . ." Ron said in a very low voice, "was it . . . you know."

"Know what?"

Ron made an odd movement with his eyes.

"Ron, what are you going on about?" Harry asked, getting impatient.

"Was it . . . on his shoulder?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

"Yeah, it was," Harry said slowly.

Ron gave a small gasp. Harry and Hermione gave each other another look, still completely confused.

"Ron!" Hermione snipped finally, utterly frustrated at not knowing the answers, "are you going to tell us what you're getting at or not?"

"Well, yeah," Ron whispered, "although I'm surprised that Hermione hasn't already read about it. See, when a person has that kind of tattoo there, it means . . . " Ron trailed off as a third year walked by within about ten feet of them. Harry sighed in frustration, obviously whatever Ron was getting at was big, very big. Harry just wished that he would come out and say it.

"Come on," Ron muttered, looking around nervously, "let's go back up to our room. No one is there. I just came from there."

"Okay," Harry said reluctantly.

By the time they were back up at the boy's room, Hermione was nearly brimming over with impatience at Ron and Harry wasn't much better. Why wouldn't Ron just _tell_ them what was going on?

Harry closed the door. "Okay, spill it, Ron," he sighed.

"Well, those marks, they're given to people who are Owned."

Harry had no idea what that meant, but he could tell by the tone in Ron's voice that "Owned" was capitalized. Obviously whatever Ron was trying to say was significant.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Owned. . . it means. . . well, I don't really know _that_ much about it. It's not something that is freely spoken of in most circles. See, some wizards – some very rich wizards – they sort of Own other wizards. They can legally control those wizards and get all the benefits from their labor."

Both Harry and Hermione gaped at him, but (as Harry soon realized), they were thinking very different things.

Hermione found her voice first. "So you mean they're _slaves_!" she shrieked.

Ron cringed. "I guess you could put it that way. But it's considered really rude to call them that, Hermione. And I think they have some rights."

"So do you think that Caydon is one of these . . . Owned?" Harry asked. It sounded weird for some reason.

"Well, I can't think of why else he would have a mark like that on his shoulder. It's the mark of someone who is Owned, Harry. Although there is something kind of odd about it. Like, I didn't think that children who were Owned went to Hogwarts. And if Caydon is Owned, then that means . . . " Ron drew in a sharp breath and looked at Harry.

"Snape . . . " Harry breathed.

"Wow. That must be right though, I mean the only way that you can be Owned is if your parents are. There haven't been any new people like that for – gee, I don't know – probably hundreds of years."

"Excuse me," Hermione pipped up, primly, "am I the only upset by the fact that human _slavery_ is tolerated in the wizarding world. I mean, the House Elves were bad enough, but I never thought . . . "

"I can't believe you've never read about this before, Hermione," Ron said.

"Well, I think I _have_. I think I've read about the beginnings of it in a history of magic book about the medieval period. I just assumed that it didn't still exist."

"But who Owns them?" Harry asked, not much interested in the history or ethics of wizard slavery at the moment.

Ron shrugged. "It could be anyone with money. I've heard that some families Own whole villages full of people."

"We could look it up," Hermione said suddenly.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Harry saw what was on the crest. There is a book with all Britain's wizarding families' crests in it in the library. We could look it up."

"That is a good idea, Hermione," Ron said.

"I don't know," Harry mumbled, uncomfortably, "it's not really any of our business, is it?"

"The more we know about Snape, the better," Ron insisted, stubbornly.

"Besides, can you really just let it rest now that you know this much, Harry?"

"No," Harry admitted, reluctantly.

There was a long pause. Hermione began tapping her foot impatiently.

"WELL," she said after a moment.

"Well, what?" Ron asked lazily, having already collapsed onto his bed.

"Are you two going to come with me to the library or not?"

"You mean _now_?" Harry asked.

"Now is as good a time as any," Hermione sniffed.

"Why don't you just go on without us, Hermione," Ron said, winking at Harry.

"Oh no!" Hermione insisted, "I'm not doing all the work for you two this time. You're coming with me!"

Hermione dragged both boys off to the library where they promptly sat down.

"You can look for that book Hermione," Ron said, "We'll help you when you find it."

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione huffed, loudly. Several people around them shushed her. Hermione stormed off.

"You do that on purpose, don't you?" Harry teased Ron.

"I don't know what your talking about, Harry," Ron said innocently, winking at Harry again. "Want to play Exploding Snap?"

Harry looked around a bookshelf to see that Hermione was talking to Madam Pince.

"Sure," Harry said, smiling.

Hermione was not amused when she came back. She had a stack of books in her hand and she silently handed the top two to Harry and Ron.

"What's this?" Ron asked. "I thought you knew of _a_ book about family crests."

"There are _several_ books about family crests. If we each take one, we should find it in no time. Plus, I got some of these because I want to read up on this Owned stuff. There didn't really seem to be much about it, though."

Harry began to flip through his book as Hermione sat down. Ron rolled his eyes and opened up his book and pretended to look through it. Hermione took out a sheet of parchment and a quill and began to question Harry.

"Harry, what did you say that tattoo looked like again?"

"It was like a black dragon or maybe a lizard – it had a very snakelike head though – it was on a grey ground and I think it was holding something in its claw."

Hermione, who had been writing busily, stopped abruptly at this. "Was it an axe?" she asked suddenly.

Harry shrugged. "Could have been. It was definitely a weapon of some kind."

Without saying another word, Hermione grabbed her book and began looking through the index in the back.

"What? What is it?" Ron asked, groggily as though he had been dozing.

"Shhhh, I want to check something. I think I've seen that crest before," Hermione said before devoting her full attention to her book, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Ron looked at Harry quizzically, but Harry merely shrugged back at his friend.

"Ah-ha," Hermione said softly, after a moment, turning to a page near the middle of the book. She looked down at the page and smiled in satisfaction, the way she often did when she had just figured something out. She handed the book to Harry. "That it?" she asked.

Harry looked down and saw a dragon in a very similar position to the one that he had seen on Caydon's shoulder. A battle axe was clutched in one of its horrible claws.

"Yeah, I think so," Harry said. "The dragon was a little different though. More snakelike or something."

"Well this book has the original versions or as close as it can get, so it could have changed over time. But look at the name Harry." She pointed to the name, written in calligraphy in the upper left hand corner.

"Malfoy. . ." Harry read aloud, his mind not immediately registering the significance of this. "_Malfoy_!"

"It really makes a lot of sense if you think about it," Hermione said. "It explains a lot. Like why Snape has always seemed so connected to Lucius Malfoy or why he lets Draco get away with murder in his class – even more than the other Slytherins."

"Or why he doesn't seem to mind that Malfoy just beat his kid into pulp," Harry said. This is horrible," he added, softly. "Can you imagine _Lucius Malfoy_ being in control of your life?"

Ron seemed to agree from the distasteful expression on his face. "God, not even Snape deserves that."

"Caydon definitely doesn't."

"Excuse me, but which is worse, the fact that our society allows slavery or the fact Lucius Malfoy Owns people?"

Harry privately thought that the reality of being Owned by someone like Lucius Malfoy was far more appalling, but he said nothing, not wanting to incur Hermione's wrath.

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "It's not slavery, Hermione, not really. I think it's a little different."

"And what, precisely, is different about it, Ronald?"

"It just is. It's hard to explain. I don't know enough about it."

"These people are oppressed!" she practically yelled.

"What do you know about it?" Ron asked irritably, "you didn't even know it existed until I told you."

"Well I'm going to know about it. I'm going to read everything I can find about it and then I'm going to . . . "

"Hermione," Harry said, sharply, "you can't turn this into some kind of spew thing. I don't want Snape to know that I told you guys. He obviously wanted to keep it quiet." Part of Harry honestly thought that it seemed somewhat unscrupulous to reveal these things, even if it was an accident, but the bigger part of him objected because Snape knew _his_ secret and could decide to tell at any time.

"Number one, it's S.P.E.W. not spew," Hermione snipped, "and number two, there's no way that he could know that you told me since he doesn't even know that you know."

"He knows that I saw Caydon's tattoo," Harry insisted, "he would easily figure it out. He's _Snape_."

* * *

After the next D.A. meeting Caydon approached Harry, nervously. 

"Hello, Harry," he said.

"Did you have a question, Caydon?" Harry asked trying to keep his voice neutral.

"No, actually I, um . . . " Caydon trailed off.

Harry couldn't help but smile. Usually, it was he who was unnerved around the boy, despite the fact that he was the elder. Caydon was almost always in control of the situation. Harry felt bad for Caydon, but also couldn't suppress his satisfaction at finally having the upper hand.

"You saw my shoulder," Caydon finally managed.

"Yes," Harry said, carefully.

"Did you – I mean, did you wonder about it?"

"You mean did I know what it meant?"

Caydon paled, visibly.

"I found out," Harry said, shortly.

Caydon covered his mouth with his hand, looking horrified. "You can't tell anyone!" he burst out. "Please, please, _please_ promise me that you won't, Harry. If anyone found out – I would have to leave Hogwarts. My father could lose his job . . . please, Harry?"

"I wouldn't . . . " Harry began, but Caydon appeared to be hyperventilating.

"My father is going to kill me," he whimpered. "He's been teaching here forever and no one has ever found out. I've been going here for a few months and Harry Potter knows."

"Caydon, it wasn't your fault. And he doesn't have to know," Harry reassured him, simply.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I know that was a bit unexpected, but it's quite essential to the plot. And no, the whole "Owned" thing isn't an excuse to have some kind of weird sex slavery like in a lot of fics. Oh, and I'm pretty sure that this story is going to contain very minor, very implied slash, NOT between any of the main characters in the story (shudder), but between one canon character and one OC who has not been fully introduced yet.**

**Coming Soon: Harry finds out a lot more about being Owned. Harry's last Quiditch match.**


	13. Discretion and Deception

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, check responses in the reviews section.**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Warnings: Mention of cutting. A little R/Hr (yeah, I know that doesn't effect the rating, but I feel that I should warn you anyway.**

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Chapter 13: Discretion and Deception

"Arms, Mr. Potter," Snape said shortly when Harry showed up to his next Occlumency lesson.

"Huh?" Harry asked, caught off guard. He had been so busy worrying about if Snape would ask him about the Owned thing that he had completely forgotten that Snape was going to check his arms. "Oh," he murmured, uneasily, pulling back his sleeves. He felt so odd, showing Snape his scarred arms – exposed, naked even. Cutting himself had been such a private action, he could hardly bear to have his precious, rapidly healing scars come under Snape's cold scrutiny. He no longer enjoyed looking at them himself, either. He didn't want to think about his cuts healing up, it made him feel like he was losing a part of himself.

"They appear to be healing well," Snape commented.

Harry grunted in reply and Snape dropped his arm. "I trust that there aren't any new scars on other parts of your anatomy," he said, raising his eyebrows at Harry.

"No," Harry said, flushing. He could say this without lying, but not without guilt. In all honesty, he _had_ intended to try this as soon as he needed it. He just hadn't desperately needed it yet.

"Have you been practicing Occlumency?" Snape asked, abruptly.

"I haven't had much of a chance," Harry replied.

Snape's eyebrows shot up alarmingly. "I believe that is the first time that you've managed to _not_ lie to me about neglecting your studies."

Harry frowned. Surely that couldn't be true? He didn't always lie to Snape when he didn't study. The man had to be exaggerating. Harry was beginning to understand, however, that lying to Snape when he asked a direct question was nearly as fruitless as lying to Dumbledore.

At any rate, Harry had been doing much better at basic Occlumency. He no longer needed time to imagine a whole elaborate sequence of events before he could block Snape from his memories, he could now do so in a manner of seconds by remembering a single image associated with such a situation. He was, however, having less success in blocking against the more subtle forms of Occlumency.

He could hardly believe that Snape was Owned. The man seemed so strong willed – not at all servant like. However. Harry's conversation with Caydon had not left much doubt in his mind about the matter. Snape was Owned – Owned by Lucius Malfoy. It was beyond comprehension. Harry wondered what being Owned involved. Were they really like slaves who labored away for the Malfoys? Or was it merely a situation where part of their income was given to their Owner? Did they live in their Owner's house like servants? Were they . . . beaten or abused? Malfoy had certainly had no qualms about hurting Caydon, but then Harry suspected that Malfoy would have hurt any first year without many reservations if he thought that he wouldn't be punished for it.

Harry felt something creeping about the corners of his mind. Snape! Harry pushed him out forcefully. Snape couldn't have known what he was thinking. He could tell that Snape had only been going for his emotions, not specific thoughts.

Nevertheless, the man crossed his arms and gave him a look that Harry couldn't recall ever seeing on the man's face before. "You know, don't you?" he asked, quietly.

"You were reading my thoughts?" Harry asked in surprise.

Snape shook his head. "I knew before – from Caydon."

"I thought he wasn't going to tell you," Harry blurted out and then cursed his own foolishness.

Snape's face darkened. "Actually, he didn't. But I hope that I can tell when an eleven-year-old _Gryffindor_ who also happens to be my _son_ is lying to me. And I don't appreciate you encouraging my child to deceive me, Potter."

"_If he knew, then why didn't he just say so from the beginning? He was making sure – by tricking Harry into admitting that he knew a secret. After all, he may have suspected that Caydon had been lying to him, but there was no way for him to know for sure – until I just confirmed it for him."_

"Sorry," Harry winced, hoping that he hadn't gotten Caydon in too much trouble. "Is Caydon okay? From the other night, I mean."

Snape's face grew even darker. "His injuries are healing as quickly as yours," he said, shortly.

"Does. . . does that sort of thing happen often?" Harry asked, knowing that Snape would probably think this incredibly rude, but unable to stop himself.

Snape snorted. "You have little reason to feel pity for Caydon's life, Mr. Potter," he snapped. Harry thought this sounded pretty cruel, only, there was a hint of something else in Snape's voice.

"_He's being defensive," _Harry realized.

"High Owned have a decent standard of living," Snape went on, "and while the Malfoys are not known as. . . . gentle Owners, Caydon has rarely come into contact with any of them. He's had a very sheltered childhood – probably more sheltered than your own."

"_Did he just admit that I didn't have a good childhood?"_

"I thought – I mean I sort of thought that Owned weren't allowed to go to Hogwarts or something. How did you and Caydon get to go?"

Snape sighed. "It's not like it's illegal or anything, Mr. Potter. You just need two things – your Owner's permission and a lot of money. Hogwarts is the best wizarding school in Britain. It's also the most expensive. However, some wealthy families like to have . . . contacts in high up positions in the wizarding world. Someone whom you Own makes the very best type of contact and graduating from Hogwarts all but guarantees that you will be able to get almost any job that you want. Some families – especially the Malfoys – will pay for their gifted Owned children to go to a good wizarding school – even Hogwarts – in hopes of them getting a position that will be useful in the future."

"Like a job working under Professor Dumbledore as a teacher at the most prestigious wizarding school in Britain?" Harry asked, slyly.

Snape didn't answer.

"So there are a lot of Owned people at Hogwarts?"

"There are some – I only know of the ones in Slytherin. These things are kept in the strictest confidence, only the Headmaster and the person's Head of House know, although I suspect that Professor McGonagall knows most of the names as well. Slytherin House – which supposedly has the most – has about seven or eight Owned students. Don't ask me who they are. I'm not allowed to tell you."

"Why is it such a big secret?"

"Owned are not highly respected. The whole purpose of sending Owned to Hogwarts is so they can get powerful jobs. Having them known as Owned would defeat the whole purpose."

"Oh," Harry said.

"I wouldn't worry too much about Caydon if I were you, Mr. Potter," he went on. "If he were hit regularly do you really think that he would have been wailing like he was?"

* * *

"Hermione, did you find out anything more about that Owned stuff?" Harry asked his friend in Defense class the next day.

Hermione lay aside her Transfiguration book which she had been studying vigorously and looked over at Harry. "Yes," she answered, "actually they were mostly history books. The whole concept started in the middle ages with feudalism. The wizarding world had feudalism as its social structure just like muggles did. Only some wizards wanted a way to have more control over their peasants – a magical bond. So the peasants became Owned. Only, a couple hundred years ago it became a big political issue over whether this should be allowed and lots of laws were passed regarding what Ownership involved, the most significant of these being laws that stated that the only people who could be marked as Owned were those who had mothers who were Owned and that babies must be marked within the first year of their lives. There was no way to free someone who was already Owned, but many Owners began to not mark babies born to their Owned and thus free them. I think that a lot of people assumed that it would just die out over time, but an equal number of wizards held onto their Owned very stubbornly and that is where we are today."

"That's awful," was all Harry could think of to say.

"Yeah, and now it's like you can't even talk about it," Hermione fumed. "See, it would cause such big fights and arguments that it became a sort of impolite topic for conversation. And then people who were against it would just sort of not talk about it to avoid confrontation."

"I see," Harry said, and they were both silent for a while.

After a bit, Ron tapped Harry on the shoulder. "You better be at practice tonight," he whispered (because Adele was lecturing, now).

Harry grinned at his friend. "Absolutely," he said.

"Is this really going to be your last game, Harry?"

"I think so. Please, don't be mad, Ron."

"I'm not mad. Well, maybe just a little. But I'm more worried about you, mate."

"I'm fine," Harry insisted. "And don't worry, I'm going to come to practices for as long as I'm on the team. We'll beat Slytherin."

"You know, beating Slytherin isn't _only_ your responsibility."

"Whatever," Harry said, flippantly, "we'll beat them. And next time we go to Hogsmeade we can celebrate with a cart load of sweets!"

To his surprise, Ron didn't look as excited about this as he had expected. "About that, Harry. . ."

"What? Do you suddenly not like sweets?" Harry teased.

"No, it's just last time we didn't hang out together . . . "

"I know. But we were fighting last time."

"Yeah. But last time I went with Hermione and it was kind of . . . nice. Being with Hermione, you know."

Harry looked over at Hermione and saw that she was having a conversation with her neighbor.

"Are you saying it was like a date?" Harry whispered.

Ron turned bright red. "I don't know. It didn't start out that way, anyway."

"So are you two together now?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, have you kissed her?"

Ron's face went, if possible, even redder.

"You _did_! And you didn't tell me?"

"Shhhh, they were just pecks."

"You kissed her more than once!"

"Shush, Harry," he said, uneasily, looking in Hermione's direction, "just twice."

"Oh."

"So, see, I sort of wanted to spend the next Hogsmeade weekend with her," he gave Harry a sidelong glance. "But if you want me to hang out with you, I will," he finished, hastily.

"No, no, it's fine, Ron," Harry assured him.

"_Fine?"_ said a little voice in his head. _"It's not fine! Who am I going to go with? What if they want to date every Hogsmeade weekend from now on! I need to get more close friends . . . "_

"Great," Ron beamed at his friend.

"Yeah, great," Harry said, with far less enthusiasm.

"_I shouldn't be so upset," _Harry chided himself. _"I've always known that this would start someday. They're meant for each other. I should be happy. Very, very happy. Even if it means that I become the third wheel."_

Harry tried to pay attention to Adele's lecture after that, but his attention span was never too good in that class. He began flipping through the glossary in his textbook, looking for something for the next D.A. meeting.

"_Impedimenta,"_ he thought idly. _"I think we've done that one."_

"_Imperio . . . Unforgivable."_

"_Imperio Maximus . . . 'a stronger form of Imperio, not often used because, because, while it does offer stronger control, it also makes it painfully obvious to anyone watching that the victim is spellbound. Does, however, enable, the caster to control several people at once.' So basically juiced up Imperio."_

"_Incarcerous . . . a binding spell. Now this could be very useful."_

Harry wrote the spell down.

"_Incendio . . . I don't think we've worked with fire yet."_

He wrote that spell down as well. His eyes flicked to the bottom of the page.

"_Intellego Celox . . . 'a spell to increase the intelligence and memory for a very short period of time and thus enable the wizard to think clearly in a stressful situation.' When would you ever use this?"_

"Mr. Potter," snapped a voice behind him. Harry jumped, Adele almost never called anyone "Mr." or "Miss", usually preferring to call students by their first names. Yet, here the woman was calling him "Mr. Potter" and glaring at him. "You should be paying attention in class and not reading in the back of the book," she went on, slamming his book shut.

The class (most of whom had been either reading or talking) looked at Adele in shock. Harry shrugged, he figured that Adele's Other Personality had come out to play. She was always very unpredictable in the way that she treated Harry.

"Reading is the most productive thing that he could do in this class," he heard Hermione mutter, under her breath. Luckily, Adele didn't hear her.

* * *

Harry was even worse than usual in Potions that day. Snape made them work alone, instead of dividing them up into partners, which meant that he was doomed from the beginning. He ended by blowing up his caldron most spectacularly.

"_I've become the new Neville," _he thought miserably, as Snape coolly assessed the damage and he and Hermione scrambled to clean up. _"How can I be so hopeless? I always just assumed that my grades were so bad because Snape hated me . . . but he's at least been better than usual this year and I'm still awful."_

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape said as the rest of the class giggled, "and see me after class."

After class, Harry approached Snape, timidly.

"Sir, I am really sorry about that. I didn't mean to mess up your classroom," he blabbed.

"I gathered," Snape replied, dryly. "However, such work merits a zero for the day."

Harry didn't meet Snape's eyes.

"I want you to get tutoring."

"What?" Harry asked, distractedly.

"You need help in Potions, if you want to pass, that is. Professor McGonagall tells me that you want to be an Auror. She also told me, rather pointedly, that Potions wasn't going to stop you. Really, you'd think it was _her _ambition. If you want to pass your N.E.W.T, then you're going to need some extra help."

Harry hadn't thought much about being an Auror lately. He didn't know if it was his dream anymore. He didn't know if he even had any dreams anymore.

"I got an O on my O.W.L.," Harry muttered.

"I realize that, and it was exceedingly odd . . . "

"You're not going to accuse me of cheating again, are you?"

"No, but you _are_ a public figure, Mr. Potter. And quite political at the moment."

"_Political!_ I don't know the first thing about politics!"

"Yes," Snape said, scratching his chin, absently, "however, people tend to either agree or disagree with what you stand for. You're a symbol of resistance against the Dark Lord."

"Much good it's done me," Harry mumbled, darkly.

"It _has_ probably worked to your disadvantage in the past," Snape admitted. "However, at other times, the opposite is true."

Harry thought on this for a moment, his heart sinking. "No one ever sees me for who I really am," he agreed, dejectedly. "God, I should have known that I could never get decent O.W.L.s on my own."

"If you are quite finished with your daily pity party, Mr. Potter, I am trying to tell you how you can improve your performance in Potions.

"You're going to tutor me?" Harry asked, doubtfully.

Snape snorted. "Don't you think I spend enough time trying to teach you subjects in which you have no interest? No, a student who does a lot of tutoring is going to help you."

"Who?" Harry asked, suspiciously, almost knowing it would be a Slytherin.

"Darius Doorn."

Harry's mouth dropped. "But – but he's younger than me!" Harry sputtered.

"He's in your Potions class," Snape pointed out, almost patiently. "And he's much more talented than anyone in your year."

"But he's in Slytherin!" Snape looked less than impressed by this argument. "Hermione can help me, she's good at Potions," he insisted.

"Absolutely not," Snape said, sternly. "Miss Granger will just end up doing all of your work for you, and that will just be a waste of your time. She won't be there for your N.E.W.Ts, you know."

"I don't need help in Potions!" Harry said, stubbornly. "I'll study, I'll get my grades up. I promise."

"Don't promise me. I couldn't care less. But I'm telling you that you're already too far behind to catch up on your own. You have the lowest grade in the class and at the rate you're going, you won't even make it into seventh year Potions."

"God, I'm so stupid. Why do I have to be so stupid?" Harry's words were spoken, but to himself, more than Snape.

"It's an extremely demanding course. Perhaps, the most demanding in the school."

"_Did he just say I wasn't stupid?"_

"I already have Occlumency and D.A. meetings and Quiditch. I don't have time for this too!"

Snape looked at him imperiously. "Aren't you quitting Quiditch soon? You'll have a nice little hole in your schedule."

"Wait . . . " Harry said, in a last ditch effort, "everyone already thinks I'm taking Remedial Potions with you. What will I tell them about this?"

"Tell them that you need tutoring in another subject."

"I'll be Hogwart's biggest dunce!" Harry said in horror.

"Many students require outside help."

"But if you do in two subjects, that means you're really dim."

"Then tell them that _you're _tutoring Darius. You _are _a year older than him. Perhaps in Defense, I understand that you're supposed to be good in it and I don't think it's his best subject."

"I'm sure he'll love that."

"Darius knows the meaning of discretion. . . and deception."


	14. Harry's Last Quiditch Game

**A/N: I do intend to continue this even after HBP comes out, although it will doubtless be less interesting. If nothing important to this story changes then maybe I can just change it to Harry's seventh year. Enjoy chapter 14 and read responses to reviews in the reviews section.**

**Warnings: Cutting and mild language.**

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Chapter 14: Harry's Last Quiditch Game

Harry kept telling himself that taking Potions lessons from Snape's little Slytherin pet couldn't really be _that_ bad. Unfortunately, he was wrong.

When Harry went down to the Potions Lab, where he was to take the lessons, he found Darius Doorn – a short, frizzy headed boy, with a sour expression – already brewing a potion which looked to be incredibly complex from the notes which lay in front of him.

"Um, hi . . . Darius?" he hoped that he had got the guy's name right.

"Shush!" Darius said, never taking his eyes from the potion. He added a spoonful of some kind of white powder to the mixture and it fizzed, loudly. Darius gave a small, satisfied smile and stood up.

"Hello Harry Potter," he said softly, but not warmly. "Have a seat."

Harry took a chair across from Darius. Darius sat back down.

"Well, I suppose that I should start by looking at your notes. Give them to me," Darius commanded.

Harry obediently took out notes from Potions class and handed them to the Slytherin. Darius began to flip through Harry's notes, leisurely. "Do you ever do anything other than doodle, Harry Potter?" Such a comment could have been said teasingly, however, Harry had the feeling that Darius was _not_ teasing him. At least not in a friendly way.

He flushed brightly. "Yes!" he exclaimed defensively.

Darius looked at him, the expression on his face clearly doubtful. He began flipping through Harry's notes again and snickered as though he found something amusing.

"What?" Harry asked, more than a little hostile.

"Taking notes in Potions isn't like taking notes in other subjects . . . "

"You can say _that _again," Harry said, a bit superiorly.

Darius glared daggers at him. "As I was _saying_, in Potions you have to record every last important detail," he ground out, "you can't be hit and miss like in other subjects, you can't just feel your way to a potion by instinct like you can with some spells. It has to be very precise. So either start taking better notes or start copying mine after class."

"I'll copy Hermione's," Harry said, stiffly.

"_Why is this guy being such a git? Slytherin. They're all like that._"

Things went from bad to worse. They tried brewing the potion that they were working on in class, but by the third step, Darius grabbed Harry's hand harshly.

"Ouch!" Harry objected.

"Are you _trying_ to blow us up? It's a pinch, not a whole handful."

"That's hardly _precise_," Harry snapped, curtly.

"It doesn't require precision, just common sense," Darius looked him straight in the eye as he said this, challenging.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Harry burst out suddenly, "Snape? Well, let me tell you that you're not. You're just some pathetic little Slytherin. You may be able to talk to the little kids you tutor like that, but I'm not going to put up with it. I could squash you like a bug if I wanted too."

"Well why don't you?" Darius said, in a low voice, drawing himself up to his full height. "You're Harry Potter. I bet you beat up geeky Slytherins all the time."

"Oh yeah, it's one of my favorite hobbies," Harry said, sarcastically. He laughed out loud at the expression on Darius' face. "Please," he said, "bullying is more a Slytherin thing, don't you think?"

To his surprise, Darius' expression turned even darker. "I don't have to help you, you know," he said, "I'm doing it out of the goodness of my heart."

"You're doing it for spare change."

Darius shrugged, not so hostile anymore. "I can always use spare change," and he actually laughed, if a bit dryly. "Let's get back to work, Harry Potter. Potions don't brew themselves."

* * *

"So how was it?" Ron asked Harry after his lesson.

"Imagine spending an hour extra twice a week with a younger, more eccentric Snape and you'll get the general idea," Harry told him.

Ron grimaced. "That bad, huh, mate?"

"You have no idea."

* * *

Harry found Caydon in the Common Room that night and stopped to talk to him. He was getting a bit uncomfortable with the number of conversations he was having with Caydon in the Common Room, he didn't particularly want his relationship with the boy to be anything other than casual indifference, but somehow, Harry found himself getting involved.

"Hi, Caydon," he said, "you didn't get in too much trouble when your father found out that I knew did you?"

Caydon gave him a weak smile. "No, not too much. I think that he thought he yelled at me enough on the night . . . the night it happened. And he never really punishes me or anything, just yells and snaps. A lot."

"So are you . . . okay?" Harry asked hesitantly. "If Malfoy's still bothering you, then I can – I don't know. Hurt him for hurting you. God, I hate him."

Caydon regarded Harry, calmly. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Harry," he told him, almost shyly. "It's not like he does that all the time or anything. It's just – I was supposed to do something for him, and I didn't do it right. So he made sure that I would get it right next time."

"That's – horrible, Caydon."

"No, no. It was really more than a little my fault, anyway. And it's probably better that my papa knows now. He can help me take care of it."

"What were you supposed to do?" Harry asked, suddenly.

"_Nothing that Draco Malfoy asked him to do could be good."_

"It doesn't matter," Caydon's eyes darted away from Harry. "I'll figure out how to placate him. I'm not that used to . . . to it. Just dealing with him." Caydon rose from his place. "I've got to go, Harry," he said, still avoiding Harry's eyes, "Lydia's probably looking for me."

* * *

It was his last Quiditch game. Every time he thought about it, he felt like laughing. Like yelling out that it couldn't possibly be his last game. He thought that he should at least feel sad or nostalgic, but he mostly felt immensely relieved. No more Quiditch meant one less strain on his life, meant one less way for people to count on him.

"_As though people depending on me to catch a little golden ball can compare to people depending on me for their lives. Depending on me to defeat Voldemort."_

Harry pulled back his sleeve, ever so slightly, to look at his cuts.

"_I still love them," _he realized, _"and I still hate them. Nothing has changed. I wish they wouldn't go away. I miss them. It will never be the same on my legs or if I can't see them. But if I cut my arms, then Snape will tell. I'll never be able to stop."_

Harry rolled his sleeve back down and sighed.

"_I never even thought of Quiditch as being a lot of pressure before this year. I always assumed that I would win. I always loved flying. Now, I don't want anything more to do with it."_

"Hey mate," Ron said behind him. Harry jumped. How long had Ron been standing there? Ron sat down beside him. "Are you nervous?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "A little," he admitted, "I don't want to lose my last game, and it_ is_ Slytherin."

Ron frowned, he had been pointedly ignoring any reference to Harry quitting the team. As though, if they didn't talk about it, it wouldn't happen. "Are you really going to quit, Harry?" he asked, now. "You've been coming to all the practices and – and –" he took a deep breath, "I'm sorry that I – I mean, I didn't mean to make you quit or . . . look, mate, you have _so much _talent for Quiditch, a lot of people would kill for your amount of talent. You shouldn't just quit."

"You already apologized once, Ron. And it's not your fault. I just have so much in my life, right now and I need to get rid of something. Quiditch is one of the few things that I do that isn't really a duty, so it has to be the first to go. Besides, it has just become way too much pressure."

"I hope that you'll change your mind," Ron said, glumly. He brightened a bit. "Hey maybe be win today and . . ."

Harry shook his head, "No, Ron, I don't care if we win or not. I'm still quitting. I hope we beat Slytherin today, but I just can't do this anymore. I can't!" he finished, almost desperately.

Ron looked at him keenly. "You know, I don't think that Quiditch is your real problem," he said, "you just don't think you can get rid of your real problems."

Harry winced, sometimes Ron could be surprisingly perceptive.

"At least say you'll come back next year. It doesn't have to be as Seeker," Ron stalled Harry's objections, "I mean, Seeker _is _a stressful position. If you want less stress from Quiditch then you could try out as Chaser – we'll need a new one next year and I think you would be good enough to make it onto the team."

"Hm," Harry said, "I'll think about it, mate," he managed a smile for his friend, "but not now."

* * *

Harry never took his eyes off of Malfoy as he took his position on the Quiditch pitch. Malfoy glared back at him with just as much, if not more, animosity.

"_How can he always look so smug? Even when he's just lost a game, he's so superior."_

Harry knew that he had to win this game, if for no other reason than to beat Malfoy. He knew he was the best Seeker – there was no way that Malfoy would catch the snitch except by dumb luck – but after his disappointing performance in the Ravenclaw game, Slytherin was the favorite to win the Quiditch Cup.

When the game started, Harry flew about, seemingly lazily, but searching intensely for the snitch all the time. Slytherin scored once and then again, but Gryffindor scored once also. Harry barely even noticed the game going on around him – it was no longer his responsibility. At one point, Malfoy plunged into him almost hard enough to knock him off his broom. At first, Harry sped up, thinking the Slytherin had been after the snitch, but he soon realized that Malfoy had done it out of spite.

Slytherin scored three more times, but Gryffindor scored four times. The teams were tied with fifty points each. After that, the game came almost to a standstill, with neither team able to score for a very long time. Harry sighed, it seemed that the game had been going on for hours. Maybe it had, the crowd certainly seemed sparser than it had at the beginning of the game.

Suddenly, Harry saw it – a speck of gold fluttering near the goal posts – all the way on the other end of the Quiditch pitch. His heart fell when he realized that Malfoy was much closer than he was. He began to fly casually over toward the goal posts, as though changing his position.

"_Almost there . . . just a little bit further and I can bolt."_

Without warning, Harry's head burst into searing pain. Harry brought his hand up to where his scar was, where it felt as though the pain would burn all the way into his skull. He felt faint, and struggled to stay on his broomstick.

"_Not now! Anytime but now! Just a little further."_

Harry tried to keep his eyes on the snitch which had now moved almost directly between two of the goal posts. Tried to ignore the pain. About as easy to ignore a pickaxe stuck in his forehead.

"_Almost there . . . "_

He was close enough. Harry bolted, full speed toward the snitch. Before Malfoy, had time to do more than look around, Harry had the snitch clenched in his fist and was landing, a bit unsteadily.

Harry's teammates gathered around him, slapping him on the back, and cheering, but Harry barely noticed. The pain was already fading and he hadn't been able to tell if Voldemort was happy or excited or angry, but whichever it was, it had been strong, and perhaps close. He thought that he might have fainted if he hadn't been so determined to stay on his broom and win the game.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked, noticing Harry holding his hand to his forehead.

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." Harry lied. He took his hand away from his head and found that it was smeared with blood.

* * *

As soon as Harry could get away, he went up to his room and collapsed into his bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

"Harry! Harry!" a shrill voice goaded him awake. Harry rolled over, trying to escape the voice, he felt he hadn't slept nearly long enough. Although his dreams had been troubled, he couldn't really remember them. "Harry!" the voice said again. It was Hermione.

Harry sat up. "What?" he asked, sleepily. "It can't be morning yet."

"Morning?" Hermione asked in surprise. "No, it's not even time for bed yet. Anyway, Harry, there's big news. A couple of boys from Hufflepuff have disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Harry asked, still sleepy.

"Yes, one from fourth year and one third. No one has seen them since before the game. Ron said that your scar was hurting after the game, Harry."

Harry didn't answer her.

"_Disappeared. God, this is all my fault. What if it was Voldemort, what if that was why my scar was hurting before? I didn't even say anything! Didn't even tell anyone or help where I could have helped. All I cared about was catching that stupid golden ball and then laying my stupid, aching head down on a pillow."_

Harry put his head in his hands.

"_I was sick," _he thought_, "practically delirious . . . no that's just a justification. I should have said something."_

"Harry?" Hermione asked in concern.

"Go away, Hermione!" he yelled roughly.

"Um . . . okay," she said, uneasily, and left the room.

"_All my fault, all my fault, my fault, my fault," _he repeated it over and over in his head, and then began to whisper it to himself.

Harry took out his wand and rolled up his pants leg. He began to make great, slashing cuts with a spell he had learned from his book. He made six large, red slashes before falling back onto his pillow to sleep again.

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Coming Soon: Harry has another odd, if more positive, trip to Hogsmeade. Caydon gets a little manipulative.**


	15. Sneaking

**So I've _finally _updated this story. I think that I was just in shock from HBP and needed time to digest all that information. I haven't been totally idle since the book came out, though. I've written several essays about various Harry Potter related subjects, some about Snape which you can find on the lj community hp essays or at my livejournal which you can find in my bio. I also intend to start posting all my fanfiction there. **

**As for this story, it is obviously not HBP compliant, maybe even totally AU, but I intend to continue it, if you all still want to read it. You can read responses to reviews in the reviews section.**

**Warnings for this chapter: Brief mention of cutting.**

**Because it's been so long since I updated, I think that I should give a recap of what's been happening lately.**

**--The Trio knows that Snape and Caydon are Owned by the Malfoys and are still trying to process this information.**

**--Snape knows about Harry's cutting and now checks him arms at Occlumency lessons. No one else knows about this habit of Harry's. **

**--Harry has quit the Quiditch team.**

**--Ron and Hermione are beginning to date.**

**--Caydon was recently beat up, apparently by Draco Malfoy.**

**--Harry has to take Potions lessons from a Fifth Year Slytherin student named Darius Doorn.**

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Chapter 15: Sneaking

Harry had never felt so relieved as when he heard that the missing boys were found the next day. Apparently they had wandered into the forbidden forest and had quite a night, before finding their way out again. He felt a bit silly for making such a big deal about it in his mind, but he wasn't sorry that he had begun cutting again. He didn't think that he could live without cutting.

* * *

"_The practice of Owning began with medieval feudal societies. Many high class wizarding families wanted complete loyalty from their vassals. The first Owned took voluntary vows that were accompanied by a complex magical ritual meant to bind the two closely together. As the practice evolved it became concentrated in the lowest levels of wizarding society."_

"Find anything?" Ron's voice drew Harry from the book he had filched from the Restricted Section.

"No, it's just _history_," Harry said in disgust. "I don't care about the history of Owning. I'm not Hermione."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, a bit heatedly.

"Nothing," Harry said, alarmed. Was Ron now going to get angry every time he made a good-natured joke about Hermione?

"Why didn't you just get Hermione to do this for you?" Ron asked a moment later.

"I wanted too . . . but I was afraid that she would start going off about House Elves or something," Harry flinched, he had done it again! He quickly went back to reading the volume before Ron could say anything.

"_By the early 17th century, most Owned were bound to their Owners soon after birth and the status was passed on from parents to children. Legally, this became from mother to children, probably because a large number of Owned women had children by their Owners and Owners didn't want to lose this valuable group."_

That was slightly more interesting, but Harry still sighed in boredom. He had always disliked history, although this beat Goblin Wars any day.

"There's nothing in here that we don't already know," he told Ron.

* * *

"So glad that you could join me, Harry," Dumbledore said pleasantly, as though he and Harry were having afternoon tea. Harry had been summoned to the Headmaster's office that afternoon.

He grunted noncommittally.

"Right, well, it seems that we have a bit of a problem."

Harry waited. Dumbledore merely looked at him. "Which would be . . .?" Harry obediently prompted.

"Christmas is coming up."

"And how is that a problem?"

"Well, Hogwarts will be closed this year, in order that extensive protections against Voldemort can be put in place."

Harry froze. Did this mean that he would have to spend Christmas with the Dursleys?

"I thought that the school was already well protected."

"Of course it is, but with the recent activities, we can't be too sure."

"Naturally," Harry said dryly.

"As you usually stay here for the holidays, I am rather at a loss for what to do with you."

"I can stay with the Weasleys," Harry suggested, knowing that Dumbledore would have already thought of this, but not caring.

"Ah. But the Burrow is no longer totally secure. We need to put you somewhere absolutely safe. If we can't find anywhere suitable, then I'm afraid it will have to be the Dursleys."

Harry took a long breath.

"But we've still got a while to think on it," Dumbledore reassured him. I'm sure that you or I will be able to come up with something."

"Would it really hurt anything if I stayed at Hogwarts?" Harry insisted.

"I'm afraid so. The nature of some of the spells makes it necessary that the students all be absent."

Harry sighed and looked up at the headmaster's stone ceiling. He paid very little attention to anything else that Dumbledore had to say that day.

That night, the mere thought of having to spend Christmas with the Dursleys caused Harry to cut two more gashes into his leg, and one across his stomach.

* * *

Harry had half expected Snape to know that he was still cutting the moment that he walked in for his next Occlumency lesson. Snape always seemed to be able to figure things out where others were blind. However, the Occlumency lessons went relatively well up until the end.

"How are your Potions lessons going?" Snape asked near the end of the lesson.

"Um, okay," Harry lied.

"Really? Because Darius told me that you were being . . . difficult."

"_Why that . . . that little . . . Slytherin,"_ Harry thought.

"Yeah, well . . ." Harry began, but Snape stalled him as though he didn't want to hear Harry's platitudes.

"You're going to fail the class."

"Well, do you think that you could have assigned me a tutor who was any harder to get along with?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Darius is brilliant at Potions . . ."

"Yeah, well that doesn't mean that he can teach me!" Harry flushed realizing that this statement could _also_ describe Snape and that Snape probably knew what he was thinking.

Snape scowled at him. "If you're not going to make an effort, then I see no reason why I should care if you fail."

"Don't do me any favors," Harry said stubbornly.

"I most certainly won't in the future. Show me your arms."

"What?" Harry asked, unsettled. Was that meant to remind him of the tremendous favor that Snape was already doing him by keeping quiet?

"We do this every lesson. Is it that hard to understand, Potter? Show me your arms."

Harry angrily rolled back his sleeves and thrust his arms out. Even though he knew that Snape wouldn't find anything there, he was a bit nervous.

Snape glanced at his arms as though they only warranted the barest portion of his attention.

"Get out of my sight, Potter," he said in a disgusted tone of voice.

* * *

The next day, Harry went to go look up more about Owning, but found that Caydon and Lydia were already sitting in the library, not reading, but whispering to one another fervently.

"Hello, Caydon."

Both children jumped, nearly out of their seats.

"Oh! Hello, Harry," Caydon said, nervously.

This was rather suspicious. "What are you two doing?"

"Nothing," Caydon said innocently.

But Lydia thought otherwise. "We were trying to figure out how to sneak into Hogsmeade," she told him, simply.

"Lydia!" Caydon screeched.

"He won't tell on us."

Harry was shocked. As respectful as Caydon was of authority, Harry thought that he would never try something as bold as sneaking to Hogsmeade. And in First Year too!

"I bet he now have the sneak in to Hogsmeade," Lydia said slyly. "Don't you Harry?"

"Lydia!"

Harry thought on this for a moment. Why was the idea of it so appealing? True, he still couldn't find anyone to hang out with during the Hogsmeade visits, but a couple of eleven year old weren't likely to be much fun. Still, they were better than no one. At least they weren't the type to cling to Harry because of his fame. Maybe what he really wanted was a little mischief. Harry always felt restless when he was not actively working to defeat Voldemort. He thought he was beginning to understand why his father and Sirius were always getting into trouble.

"I do know of a way . . ." Harry said hesitantly. "But you have to promise not to tell anyone . . ."

Lydia perked up and even Caydon raised his gaze to meet Harry's.

"Sure!" Lydia said, brightly.

"What about you Caydon?"

Caydon looked at his hands for a long moment. "I agree," he said finally. "Tell us."

Harry hesitated, regretting even mentioning it. "There is a statue of a humpbacked witch on the third floor," he told them, reluctantly. "It opens up a secret passage to the cellar of Honeydukes."

"Awesome!" Lydia breathed.

Harry was regretting this more and more. "Was there any particular reason that you wanted to go?"

"It's _Hogsmeade_," Lydia exclaimed, but Caydon changed the subject.

"How are we to get out of the cellar of Honeydukes without anyone seeing us?"

Harry briefly contemplated lending his cloak to the two children, but immediately discarded the idea. He had already revealed too much by telling them about the secret passage – Caydon was Snape's son and he barely knew Lydia. If they told a teacher then it would become much harder for him to sneak around – if he ever needed.

"Go out the back door that opens into the alleyway. I'll meet you there."

Was it just his imagination or did Caydon's face fall at this?

"Something wrong, Caydon?"

"Nothing . . . just, you don't have to come with us, Harry. I'm sure that you want to be with your own friends."

Harry certainly did. He also didn't particularly feel like imposing himself where he wasn't wanted, but now that he had told the children about the secret passage, he felt somehow responsible. As though he had to watch them, to make sure that nothing happened. After all, he supposed that they didn't let students under the third year visit Hogsmeade for a reason.

"I think it would be best if I met you," he said, firmly.

Caydon's face flushed and he opened his mouth to say something.

"It's alright, Caydon," Lydia said, in confusion. "He can come with us."

Caydon's face went blank. "Of course he can," he said, pleasantly, a moment later.

Harry thought that he really needed to stop acting on his impulses. Helping Caydon and Lydia get to Hogwarts and watching them when they got there was going to be quite an annoyance. He wasn't a nursemaid! There was also the possibility that he could get in trouble. But he had a sneaking suspicion that Caydon and Lydia would go with or without his help.

"Caydon, you had better wear your regular robes so no one will know you go to Hogwarts." The boy's size ensured that no one would take him for a Hogwart's student unless they knew him. "Lydia . . ."

Lydia presented more of a problem. Tall for age, Harry thought that she wouldn't be able to easily pass for under eleven, but he wasn't too sure how well she would pass for a Third Year either. Harry thought hard on this.

"You had better just wear your Hogwarts robes," Harry said finally. Lydia grinned. "I hope you can pass for a short Third Year."

Lydia agreed and shortly left the library. Harry looked down at Caydon.

"So why don't you want me to go with you?"

Caydon shrugged.

"Don't you like me?"

"Of course, I like you, Harry," he said sincerely.

"Do I smell?"

"No," Caydon laughed.

"Do you fancy Lydia?" he asked teasingly, thinking of Ron.

"Ew! Yuck, Harry."

Harry laughed, but then became more serious. "So why not?"

"I can't tell you."

"Is it something to do with the Malfoys?"

"Is that all you think about when you look at me now?" Caydon said, not angrily, but curiously. "That I'm . . . _Owned_," the last word was said in a soft, but heated, whisper.

"No . . . I just . . ."

"I think I might have liked it better when you just saw my father," Caydon's voice was half amused.

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn't think of a comeback, mainly because he _had_ been thinking of Caydon's Owned status a lot when he thought of him.

"Just make sure that you meet me at Hogsmeade."

"Going to keep us out of trouble?" Caydon arched an eyebrow as though the idea was ridiculous.

"That's right," Harry replied as though he hadn't heard the sarcasm.


	16. A Rainy Day at Hogsmeade

**A/N: Is anyone who is reading this story artistic? Because I would dearly love to have a picture of Caydon (there's a good description of him in Chapter 3). If anyone would draw me a picture of him (or a picture of anything related to this story) and email it to me, then I would post it to my livejournal, I guess.**

**Read responses to reviews in the reviews section. **

**Warnings: Mild chapter, no more than a soft PG. **

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Chapter 16: A Rainy Day at Hogsmeade

Harry stood, shivering in the freezing rain, in the alleyway outside of Honeydukes. He reflected that Hogsmeade looked much less impressive from this back alleyway. It was muddy, narrow, and the paint on all the buildings had faded to various shades of dull grey.

"_Where are they?" _he thought nervously. _"They should have been here by now."_

Harry blew on his hands, trying to dispel the cold.

"_Right now I could be having some hot cider or butterbeer or . . ."_

The hatch to the cellar was creaking open but then abruptly slammed shut.

"Ouch, Caydon! Those were my fingers!"

"Sorry," he heard Caydon gasp. "It was so heavy."

Harry leant down and lifted the hatch. Two very dirty faces looked up at him.

"_Did I look that dirty after coming through that secret passage?"_

Lydia grinned at him and Caydon's mouth made an O, as though surprised.

"Come out of there," Harry said, taking Lydia by the hand and half lifting her up. Caydon scurried behind her.

"So this is Hogsmeade?" Lydia asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

"This is what it looks like from behind," Harry told her. He took out a dirty, crumpled handkerchief and handed it to Caydon. "Here, wipe your face off, both of you."

Caydon looked at it dubiously, took out a cleaner version and began smearing it all over his face. Harry saw that Caydon's robes, which were a dark shade of blue and a course material, were also quite dirty. Caydon noticed Harry looking at him.

"Well, it's really muddy today!" he said defensively.

Harry sighed and looked over at Lydia who was a bit cleaner. "Where do you want to go?" Harry asked her.

"Let's go in Honeydukes since we're already here and all," she said brightly.

"Yes, I want to go in Honeydukes," Caydon agreed.

Harry didn't particularly want to take them to such a popular shop, but he supposed that any normal child would want to go in Honeydukes and he hated to say no to them.

"Alright," Harry agreed, "but pull your hood up, Caydon," he said, seeing that Caydon was wearing one, "And Lydia, you keep your head down. I don't want you two recognized by any teachers."

The children agreed and he took them into the shop, which was extremely crowded, as usual. Lydia began picking out as many overwhelmingly sweet things as she could find and Harry went to buy some chocolate.

"Caydon, where are you going?" Harry asked, catching the boy about to go out the door a while later.

"I don't much care for sweets," Caydon said. "I was going to wait outside."

"You don't want anything?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No."

"Come on, I'll buy you some chocolate."

"I don't like chocolate."

"Who doesn't like chocolate?"

"Me, okay? I just . . . don't like it," Caydon said angrily.

"Okay, okay," Harry was taken aback. "I was just trying to be nice, you know."

"Sorry," Caydon voice was grumpy.

"Let's not fight. I'll go get Lydia and we'll all leave if you don't want to be here."

"Fine."

Harry asked Caydon where he wanted to go next and Caydon gave the name of another popular shop. They went to several other shops, but it was almost as though Caydon didn't want to be at Hogsmeade at all. It was quite bemusing. Lydia, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of her life. She bought nearly everything that she saw, Caydon's mood didn't seem to bother her in the least and when the boy started to snap at her, she promptly shoved a piece of licorice down his throat.

"I'm hungry," she whined while Caydon was still trying to recover.

Harry did not see how this was possible, considering the amount of sweets that she had consumed, but he was getting a bit hungry himself.

"Well, let's go get lunch, then."

"Can we go to the Three-Broomsticks?"

"No," Harry said hastily. "There are always lots of teachers there and one of them might see you or Caydon."

Harry looked around the street to see where else they might go.

"How about here?" he said, pointing to a small, new restaurant which was off to the side, a bit. "My treat."

Once they were inside Harry realized that it was a muggle themed restaurant. Caydon was looking around wide-eyed.

"What is this place?" he asked looking at the plastic booths and employees in dorky, red uniforms.

"Um . . . come on, I think you have to go up to the counter to order," Harry said.

Harry had quite a time actually getting Caydon to order something. For one thing, he seemed very shy about accepting anything from Harry. It was as if he thought Harry was trying to give him charity. He also seemed completely unsure about what to order, having never eaten at a muggle fast-food restaurant. Harry finally gave up and ordered him a chicken sandwich. Lydia, however, knew just what she wanted and wasn't timid about the cost of the food. She got two cheeseburgers, jumbo fries, and a huge vanilla milkshake which she proceeded to gulp loudly. Harry watched her eat in some awe as he ate his own cheeseburger. How could such a skinny little girl eat so much?

After a while, the girl noticed Harry looking at her. "Shworry," she said around a mouthful of food. She gulped it down. "It's been so long since I ate anything like this."

"Are you a muggleborn?" Harry asked her.

She shook her head, "Halfblood," she said shortly, closing her eyes as though to savor the flavor of her milkshake. Caydon rolled his eyes at her antics.

"Oh lighten up, Donnie," she said, punching him in the arm lightly. Caydon glared at her, but somehow Caydon managed to look cute even when scowling. "You've been a downer all day," Lydia continued.

"I've told you that my name is not _Donnie_, Lydia," Caydon said, somewhat irritably.

Harry snorted with laughter, nearly blowing his soft drink out of his nose.

"Well, you needed a nickname," Lydia told him with dignity.

"You can call me Cay like my brother does. If you must, that is."

"I could call you Curlylocks," Lydia laughed, flicking Caydon's hair.

"I can't help it! My hair curls in the rain!"

"Hold on," Harry said suddenly, "you have a _brother_ Caydon?"

"Yes."

"I didn't know that! How old is he?"

"A year younger than you, I think. Fifteen."

"_Fifteen_? Why isn't he at Hogwarts?"

Caydon looked at Harry significantly. "Not everyone goes to Hogwarts, Harry," was all he said.

"Oh . . . ahh," Harry said. He remembered Snape saying something about only really exceptional Owned being allowed to go to Hogwarts.

"Just so it won't be another shock to you, I also have a little sister, Sophia. She's eight."

Harry had gotten used to the idea of Snape having a son, but he was having trouble wrapping his head around the idea of Snape having a _family_.

"So . . . are your parents married?" Harry asked.

"No, my father found me under a cabbage leaf."

Harry blinked at him.

"Of course they're married!" Caydon giggled. "What kind of question is that?"

Harry tried to picture Snape with a wife and failed miserably. Harry looked over at Lydia who seemed to be having a similar dilemma and grinned. Suddenly, Harry really liked Lydia.

"What's your brother's name?" Harry asked.

"Braedon."

Lydia giggled.

"What now?" Caydon asked her.

"Well . . . it's just . . . that sort of rhymes with Caydon doesn't it?"

"So?"

"So . . . I'm just trying to picture Professor Snape giving his kids rhyming names."

Caydon sniffed. "Our mother named us."

"Gee, I couldn't tell."

Harry laughed at this.

"If you two are done mocking my family . . ."

"Oh, you know I was just kidding," Lydia said giving Caydon a hug around the neck as the boy tried to glare at her again.

"If that's what you say, Lydia," Caydon said, giving his friend a half smile.

"Oh, come on. You're saying that you don't find the idea of your father saying "I think I'll give my sons cute rhyming names" the teeniest bit funny?"

Caydon's lips quirked. "Well, _maybe_. But I thought you liked my father."

"I _do_, but it's still funny. Isn't it funny Harry?"

"Yeah, it's a little funny."

"But we all know that he hates my father. Don't you hate my father Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth. He didn't know exactly how to respond to this. He certainly didn't _like _Snape, but he couldn't tell Caydon that he hated the man. Especially since Snape had tried to help him in so many ways.

"Well, every time I start to kind of like him, he acts horrible to me," Harry said.

"He is very unfair to Gryffindors," Lydia added.

"He's not unfair to _you_."

"Only because I'm friends with you, Caydon. He's really unfair to some of the boys in our year."

"Have you actually talked to some of the boys in our year, Lydia? And Rick and Corbin are awful to me."

"But he should be impartial, shouldn't he? Ah, what am I arguing with you for? Sometimes I wish that someone would slap those gits silly."

"Exactly," Caydon said firmly. "One of the best things about going home for Christmas is not having to share a room with them."

"At least you two _want_ to go home for Christmas," Harry said glumly. "I usually stay at Hogwarts for Christmas, but this year they're putting up all these protective spells, so it looks like I may have to spend Christmas with my aunt and uncle."

"And you don't _want_ to spend Christmas with them?" Caydon asked with an odd look in his eye.

"Gah. No. We don't get along."

"So why not stay with friends?" Lydia asked.

"I can't," Harry exhaled, miserably, "Dumbledore says he has to find somewhere _safe_ to put me."

"So Dumbledore is still looking then?" Caydon asked him.

"Yes, but I think he's just trying to hold off to get me used to the idea."

"Ah, I see," Caydon said, sipping his drink.

The conversation lulled and Caydon excused himself to go to the bathroom. Harry bought Lydia a piece of pie and by the time she finished it, she was looking at Harry like he was her fairy godmother.

"Where's Caydon?" Harry asked, when it seemed that the boy had been gone too long.

Lydia shook her head. "I don't know," she sighed. "I worry about that boy sometimes. He's so tiny . . ." Harry smiled at the girl's sudden transformation into a mother hen.

"There you are!" Lydia cried, looking over to where Caydon was coming out of the back and waving.

"I'm tired," Caydon whimpered, walking over to them and leaning slightly on Lydia, "can we go back to Hogwarts now?"

"Of course," Lydia said, patting him on the head.

"I'll come with you guys this time," Harry said.

* * *

"I can't believe we made it!" Lydia said as they stepped out of the secret passage. Harry was careful to make sure that it closed firmly.

"Did you think I would have done this if I thought we would be caught, Lyd – Lyd . . ." Caydon trailed off, looking at something behind Harry.

Harry looked whipped around and saw Adele staring back at him coldly.

"Professor . . ." Harry said.

"Mr. Potter, where have the three of you been?" Adele asked, jutting her chin out.

Harry followed her gaze down to the hem of his robes and belatedly realized that they were all covered halfway to the knee with mud from traipsing around the wet back streets of Hogsmeade all day.

"Err . . . outside," Harry explained, lamely.

"Outside?" Adele asked, stepping closer to Harry. "And what would you and Mr. Snape and Ms. Deetle be doing outside?"

That was a bad sign. Adele calling anyone by their surname was never good. Harry was suddenly aware that Adele had stepped in so close that they were pressed chest to chest. She was tall for a woman, and her heels put her level to Harry. Harry was nearly choking on her perfume again, and he wanted desperately to step away, but there was something in Adele's eyes – something challenging that forced Harry to face her.

"I was outside practicing Quiditch, I have no idea what these two were doing, I just met them on the way in," Harry told her.

Adele gazed at him for a long moment, her eyes calculating, then her face abruptly broke into a crooked smile and she began spinning a tendril of her hair around her pinky finger.

"Well I guess that's all right then, isn't it?" she tittered. "I have to tell you, Harry, that I'm no good at doing the stern teacher thing. I mean, can you honestly imagine shaking my finger at some misbehaving first year like – like McGonagall," she dissolved into giggles as though this were the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

Harry made a weak attempt at laughter, while Lydia merely looked at her like she was insane. Many people still didn't know what to make of Adele.

"Well goodbye children," she said airily, with a wink at Harry as though to suggest that _he_ wasn't a child.

When the click of her heels on the floor had died away, they all let out a relieved sigh.

"That was close," Lydia breathed. "But what's wrong with you Caydon?"

Harry looked down at the boy and realized that he was quite pale and was positively shivering.

"Nothing . . . just that was so close wasn't it? She's so scary."

"No," Lydia laughed at him, "that was not scary. Getting caught by Filch – scary. Getting caught by your dad -- scary. Getting caught by Adele . . . bizarre."

"Speaking of which, we had better get back up to our rooms and change before another professor catches us. If Adele was suspicious, then you can bet that McGonagall or Snape would figure us out in a second.

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A/N: Sorry for the Snape-free chapter, but he should be in the next chapter in a bog way.**


	17. Christmas Plans

**A/N: Sorry. Long time, short chapter. BUT I've been laboring to write a special mini-chapter to be poseted along with Chapter 17. Should have responses to reviews posted in the reviews section very soon. Hope you all enjoy.**

**Warnings: Mild Language. PG. **

**Chapter 17: Christmas Plans**

"So you spent the Hogsmeade visit with a couple of First Years?" Hermione asked Harry skeptically as they waited with several other students, outside the Potions classroom for class to start.

"Keep it down. But, yes."

"Oh, I'm sorry Harry. We didn't mean to leave you out or anything. Next time we'll all go together."

"_Hey_, Doorn!" a voice boomed behind Harry. Harry turned his head to see Ernie Macmillon confronting Darius Doorn. "What the _hell_ is this?"

Harry turned back to Hermione, trying to ignore the conversation behind him. "It wasn't so bad, actually," he told her. "Of course, I would have rather been having a drink at the Three-Broomsticks with you and Ron, but Caydon and Lydia are pretty funny."

Ernie's voice rose behind Harry again. "I ask for your help and this is what you give me?"

Harry strained his ears, trying to hear Darius' response, but the Slytherin spoke far too softly for Harry to hear him.

Hermione frowned. "Oh?" she asked Harry distractedly.

"Yeah, it wasn't so bad. If Snape ever finds out that I helped get Caydon into Hogsmeade, I'll be snake food, though."

This time it was Seamus Finnigan's laugh that drifted across the hall to Harry. He wondered, vaguely what Seamus was doing down here, as he didn't even take Potions anymore.

"Maybe that's the best essay he could write, Ern," he said, mockingly. "I always knew he wasn't as smart as people said he was . . . I mean he looks like he wouldn't know how to tie his own shoes. Muggle expression," Seamus added at the confused looks he got, "it basically means that he's a _freak_." With the word "freak", Seamus knocked Darius' books out of his hands.

"Excuse me, Hermione," Harry said calmly. Turning, he strode up to the two boys who now appeared to have Darius cornered against the wall. "Hey, you gits want to lay off?" Harry asked, hotly.

"Ooh – hoo, it's Potter to the rescue," Seamus said, sarcastically. Several people snickered. "Do you even defend freaks and Slytherins now?"

"I hear that Doorn gives him some _special_ tutoring during evenings, if you know what I mean," Ernie boomed, loudly.

Harry drew his wand, enraged. "Shut up! Just shut up!" he pointed his wand at Ernie. Ernie looked at him in fear, but Seamus continued to mock.

"What a comeback!" he laughed, drawing his wand. "No wonder he needs tutoring."

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Finnigan, Mr. Macmillon!" Snape's voice boomed behind him. "Dueling in the corridors? Let's make it twenty points each from Gryffindor and twenty from Hufflepuff?" Snape raised his hand to stall their objections. "I'm not done. Twenty points each and two weeks detention, to begin after the Christmas break. And Mr. Potter, see me after class."

Harry groaned, inwardly, but merely put his wand away. Snape entered the classroom and the students followed, many whispering softly to each other. Harry looked at Darius for the first time and saw that his face was red with anger. He shoved past Harry, rudely, and stormed into the classroom. Harry looked around at Hermione, who simply shrugged at him.

Darius kept his eyes on his desk, throughout Snape's class. Harry wondered if he were paying any attention whatsoever. Snape didn't seem to mind. After class, Harry went up to Snape's desk.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked, dread in his voice.

"Yes," Snape said, looking down at his hands. He gave a long sigh, as though preparing for an extended and difficult task. He looked Harry straight in the eye. "I wanted to say that that was a good thing that you tried to for Darius. I wouldn't have thought it of you."

Harry gaped at Snape incredulously. "Then why did you give me detention?" Harry finally managed to ask.

"You nearly dueled with two other students in a school corridor. How could I help but give you detention?"

"Oh . . .erm, thanks? Was that . . . was that all you wanted?"

"You shouldn't . . . don't take it the wrong way if Darius isn't grateful or . . . or if he's angry with you."

Harry stared at Snape in amazement. He had never seen his professor so uncomfortable or so put off.

"Okay, then . . . see you, sir."

Snape rolled his eyes.

* * *

Early the next Saturday morning, Harry was called up to the Headmaster's office. He was surprised to see Snape sitting in a chair in front of the Headmaster's desk and shocked to see Caydon sitting beside him. Harry's heart sank. 

"_This has got to be about that Hogsmeade visit," _he thought frantically. _"Why else would Caydon be here? I am going to be in so much trouble."_

"Aren't you going to have a seat, Harry?" Dumbledore asked him, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right, right," Harry said, taking a seat. Caydon smiled at Harry as though he knew what he was thinking. Harry waited to hear what Dumbledore had to say, but Dumbledore was merely looking back and forth between Harry and Snape, his eyes twinkling. Harry saw that Caydon was nervously picking at his robe and Snape was tapping his foot impatiently.

"Headmaster," Snape said, as though trying very hard to control his voice. "Can you _please_ tell us what this is about, now that Potter is here?"

_"So Snape doesn't know either . . ."_

"Naturally, Severus. You see, this morning Caydon here came to me with a rather brilliant suggestion."

"He did." Snape looked sharply at Caydon. Caydon sank down further into his chair.

"Indeed. You see, Harry has been having a bit of a problem. He has no place to go for Christmas break."

"He doesn't," this time his pointed glance was for Harry.

"Yes, and I've been thinking very long and hard about where I could send him without much luck. This morning your son came to me with the most _resourceful_ suggestion. What do you do to keep him so creative?"

"Oh, I have a feeling that I'll be letting Caydon take _all_ the credit for this one," Snape's voice had become very dry. "Continue."

"Now, where do you suppose that the best place to hide someone is, Severus?"

"In a dark cave as far away from me as possible. Not in plain sight which will be the next incredible leap of logic that you will wish me to make."

"Always the one for wit, Severus. But, surely you see the value of hiding something precious in the last place that one would expect, in disguising it instead of secreting it."

"I'm afraid not."

"Be reasonable, Severus."

Snape gave a long sigh. "I suppose that in some completely abstract, hypothetical situation that does not involve Potter spending the holidays with me, that I can see the merit of your idea."

"Spending the – wait a minute, you're not serious, Professor?" Harry groaned.

"It's the perfect solution, Harry," Dumbledore beamed.

"Absolutely not. He is not spending the holidays with us," Snape said. "For one thing, holidays are one of my only opportunities to get _away_ from Potter, and for another it is utterly foolhardy. Do you really think that you can hide him right under Lucius Malfoy's nose? Lucius is no fool."

"But Lucius, isn't there anymore, Papa," Caydon piped up, "and Narcissa never comes into the village."

"That's quite enough out of you, Caydon!"

"Isn't someone bound to recognize me, sir?" Harry asked Dumbledore desperately.

"_Yes_," Snape said. "And Draco _does_ come into the village."

"That's what glamours are for, my dear boys," Dumbledore looked exceedingly pleased with himself. "I can put a glamour on Harry to last the course of the holidays."

"I still don't think that we've addressed the real problem, here. I am not having James Potter's son in my home!"

"Surely, you want to protect Harry. . ."

"That is what his aunt and uncle are for. . ."

"Harry hates being there. He hates every minute of it and there is no other safe place to send him."

"We all have to do things that we don't like, sometimes."

Harry wondered, briefly, if spending Christmas with Snape would be any better than spending it with the Dursleys. He concluded that it would _have _to be better. He didn't think that Snape would lock him in his room and Caydon would be there. Still not his first choice, though.

Snape and Dumbledore were still arguing.

"Okay, you can stop, now," Harry said. "I get it. No one wants me. I'll go to the Dursleys. It's not a big deal."

Snape looked away from him. Everyone was silent for a moment.

Caydon spoke up first. "Please, can't he come, Papa? I'll never get to have a friend from Hogwarts over," Caydon's eyes had become very wide, and his lip jutted out, slightly.

"Stop that!" Snape snapped.

Caydon eyes became even wider.

"Headmaster, this idea is dangerous," Snape said, calmly, trying to ignore his son. "If anyone found out, then both Mr. Potter and my family would be put in serious danger."

"I have it all worked out, Severus. No one will know."

Caydon was now looking at Harry with imploring eyes. Harry looked away from him.

"Please, Severus. I know that this is difficult for you, but I would consider it a personal favor if you did this for me."

"I don't suppose that I have a choice then, do I?" Snape was tight-lipped.

"You always have a choice," Dumbledore's voice was almost a whisper.

"He can come."

"_Yes_!" Caydon whispered. They all looked at him. "Sorry," he said, sheepishly, he was smiling, though.

"I want it on record that I was against this."

"Hold on, isn't anyone going to ask me what I want?" Harry asked.

"Well of course, it's your decision, Harry," Dumbledore said. "But I have to tell you that I don't really have any other ideas. It's either this or the Dursleys."

"Fine," Harry said, reluctantly. He looked over at Snape who was positively fuming with anger but seemed unsure of whether to direct it toward him or Dumbledore or Caydon. Dumbledore seemed to sense Snape's anger also.

"Harry, Caydon, if you two would excuse us, Severus and I have a few things to discuss," he said.

"Right," Harry said immediately, thinking that he had "a few things to discuss" with Caydon anyway.

When they arrived outside of Dumbledore's office, Harry immediately rounded on Caydon.

"How could you do that?"

"You were the one who said that you didn't have anywhere to go, Harry," Caydon was very calm.

"I wasn't looking for an invitation!"

"I thought that it would be nice to have you over."

"Caydon, you know how your father feels about me. What are you up too with this?"

"I don't know! It seemed like a good idea at the time. I don't think my father hates you _that_ much."

"Hates me? He _loathes_ me. From the moment he set eyes on me he's . . ." Harry looked at Caydon, realizing that this might not be the time to start a tirade on Snape. "What would make you think he didn't hate me? It's so obvious."

Caydon shrugged. "He never told me not to talk to you."

Harry was thinking of how to respond to this when Snape came storming up to them. "You," he snapped, jabbing his finger at Harry, "go to class. You," he pointed at Caydon, "come to my office _now_."


	18. From Severus' Perspective

**A/N: This chapter is very special because it is from Snape's POV. A conversation between Snape and Caydon, to be exact. I don't know if I will write any more of these, but it is possible that you will see at least one more somewhere down the road. No warnings. **

**Chapter 18 (Mini-Chapter):From Severus' Perspective**

Severus Snape sat at his desk in his office, outwardly calm, tapping his long fingernails on the dark wood of his desktop and staring unblinkingly at his son who was fidgeting in the high backed chair across from him. The problem with having children, of course, was that they would never fear you in the same way as a student would. Once you've lived with someone, inflicting awed fear becomes very difficult. Yet another of a plethora of reasons that Severus didn't want Harry Potter to stay with him. Of course, Gryffindors were disrespectful in general and Potters in particular.

Still, Severus reflected, the boy sitting across from him looked fairly nervous. The silence must be doing its work. Severus was well aware that silence could be far more intimidating than words. He prayed that when he did speak, that he wouldn't lose his temper. He would be firm, angry even, but flying into a rage would do no good in this situation. This was going to be easier said than done.

"Well?" he droned, forcing his voice into a dry monotone, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

Caydon shrugged his shoulders.

"You don't know?" Severus' voice was strained. Unbelievable. Absolutely incomprehensible. That the boy would have done something so risky and so inconvenient without even thinking it through enough to defend his actions was utterly mind-boggling.

Caydon shrugged again. Severus was beginning to get a migraine. He leveled his best glare at the child.

"I'm not going to let you outwit me in an argument, Papa. I thought it would be nice to have Harry over. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"And you didn't think that it would be a good idea to tell me about your little _idea_ beforehand?"

Caydon shrugged yet again. Severus found himself holding back the strong desire to press the boy's shoulders down.

"It was wrong of you to go over my head, Caydon."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Severus gave his son a wry smile. "You most certainly do. You knew how adverse I would be to the suggestion, so you went to Dumbledore without telling me or Potter."

Caydon looked uncomfortable. "I knew you or Harry wouldn't even give the idea a chance, Papa. I thought that Professor Dumbledore might listen to me."

Caydon appealed to Severus with doe eyes. Severus sighed. Surely Caydon had to know that his adorable act only annoyed him. He supposed that it probably worked on most people, although children Caydon's age were normally getting much too old to successfully execute it, but it rather unnervingly reminded Severus of Caydon's mother. The pouting lips, flushed cheeks, widened eyes, and brown hair falling gently over his face brought back memories of having to deal with a grown woman trying to get her way by pouting. If only Caydon's eyes had been blue instead of brown, the illusion would have been complete. Severus shuddered and mentally moved breaking Caydon of this habit to the top of his parental to-do-list

"Do you have any idea what kind of danger you've placed us in? If Lucius Malfoy were to find out about this . . . I don't even want to think about the consequences."

"Dumbledore says it will be all right, Father."

Ah, so it was "Father" now and not "Papa". At least Caydon had given up on trying to be cute. Severus sighed, how could he explain Dumbledore's faults without having Caydon lose faith in the Headmaster the way that Potter seemed to have done? For some reason, many students expected the Headmaster to be perfect. Severus was sure that he had never suffered from such an affliction.

"Caydon . . . Professor Dumbledore is a great wizard. And a good one. However, he does tend to take unnecessary risks."

"And you don't?"

"I take _necessary _risks. Endangering my entire family and all the work that I've done over the years to gain my position as a spy just so Harry Potter won't have to stay with his relatives for a few days is hardly a necessary risk, Caydon."

"You worry too much."

Severus groaned in frustration. Where had the boy learned to be so evasive?

"Papa, are you sure that you don't want this just because you don't like Harry?"

Severus closed his eyes and briefly imagined a better world. A world in which his favored son didn't attach himself to Potter like a fungus. Better yet, a world with no Potters. That would be a very good world, indeed. He snapped his eyes open to find his son looking at him, quizzically.

"How many times do we have to go over this, Caydon? No, I do _not_ like Harry Potter. That isn't going to change anytime soon. I can assure you that the feeling is mutual. That doesn't change the fact that this is an extremely foolish idea."

"Why do you hate Harry?"

"I . . . he is disrespectful, Caydon. And . . . well. There are a lot of very complicated reasons that I can't really explain." When had he lost control of this conversation? He certainly didn't want to get into a discussion about James Potter and most likely get psychoanalyzed by his almost twelve-year-old son. There was no way that he could explain to Caydon the anger he felt at the idea of Harry Potter in his house, looking down on his home and his family. Oh, Potter might try to hide it, but Severus could see that he already felt pity for Caydon and even himself since he had stuck his nose in where it didn't belong and learned that Severus' family was Owned. He was the parent, Caydon was the child, he should give out punishment and be done with it.

"He's been very kind to me, Papa. I don't think he's as bad as you think."

"I am not going to discuss this any further. I expect that you'll spend your next four Saturdays at Hogwarts cleaning out cauldrons for me."

"But Papa! You can't give me detention for something not school related!"

Severus smiled. "Don't think of it as detention, think of it as extra chores."

Caydon crossed his arms and pouted. "Yes, sir," he said as if he knew that arguing would get him no where.

"Very good. You may leave now."

"Papa . . ."

"Yes?"

"Maybe it was a bad plan, it sure seems that way when you talk about it, but I just have a _feeling_ that it's going to be alright. That it will be good for everyone."

Severus felt his heart seize up. "One of _those_ feelings?" he asked his son, faintly.

Caydon nodded and quickly scurried out of the room, leaving Severus alone with his thoughts.


	19. Gray

**A/N: This story is now fully up to date on my livejournal which is linked in my bio, and I'll continue to update it at the same time asat There is also some great fanart there by Iva.**

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Chapter 19: Gray

"I can't believe that you're going to spend your holidays with Snape!" Ron sighed as he watched Harry pack his trunk.

"Keep it down Ron! I wasn't even supposed to tell you."

"Where does he live, anyway?"

"I don't know."

Ron looked at him oddly.

"He wouldn't tell me," Harry clarified.

"I wish that you could spend Christmas with us," Ron huffed. "I won't even know where to send your Christmas gifts."

"I don't think that Snape would like it if I used owl post to write you a lot. Just give me my gift after Christmas."

"Mum is going to be very upset, you know," Ron said lightly, "She always likes everyone to wear their sweater on Christmas."

"Yes," Harry said, distracted.

"Harry, do you think that they're . . . you know, _poor_. Not poor like my family, I mean _really_ poor."

"I don't know," Harry said, pausing in the middle of folding robes. "I hope not, I don't want this to be any more awkward than it's already going to be. They couldn't have that much money, though. They're _Owned_."

"So do they actually live in the Malfoys' house?"

"No, in a village from what I can gather," Harry snapped the lid onto his trunk in frustration. "I'm really dreading this, Ron."

* * *

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore beamed as Harry entered his office, "there you are."

"Sorry, I'm late, sir," Harry said to Dumbledore, "I was just saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione."

"Right, right. Perfectly understandable, my dear boy, perfectly understandable. Let's get started, shall we?"

Harry looked over at Snape expecting that the Potions Master would find his excuse less than "perfectly understandable", but Snape had an expression of extreme boredom on his face and seemed eager to get this over with.

"Now I've decided to that I should do different glamour charms on each a little bit of you. That way, if one charm fails, then you won't immediately look like Harry Potter to anyone who might see you. Is that all right?"

"So I'll basically have about . . . what, ten different charms on me?"

"Yes."

"Fine," Harry sighed.

"Excellent. Now, beginning at the top of your head," Dumbledore muttered and Harry could have sworn that he cast a twinkle-eyed glance in Snape's direction. Snape, however, seemed to be paying very little attention to the proceedings. Dumbledore tapped Harry's head three times and murmured a complex spell under his breath. Dumbledore stepped back and Harry kept waiting to sense something, but all he felt was a soft breeze blow across his forehead.

Harry heard Snape snicker from his corner and a look at Dumbledore showed that the headmaster was also trying to hold back laughter.

"What?" Harry asked. "Do you have a mirror?"

The headmaster seemed to grab a small, ornate mirror out of thin air and handed it to Harry.

It took a few seconds of looking at his own reflection for it sink in. "You made me _blonde_?" he spluttered, staring at his hair which was now straw colored and flat on his head.

Dumbledore smiled at him gently. "Well it does make you look quite different, Harry."

"I look ridiculous! You have to change it!"

"Vanity Potter?" Snape spoke for the first time. "You know," he mused, "I think it was the hair all along."

"What was the hair?"

"That made you look so much like your father," Snape snapped as though it should have been obvious. "Oh, I suppose that you're built along the same lines, but your facial features are quite different."

Harry didn't know what to say to this.

"Next I will do your forehead, Harry," Dumbledore said. "We must hide that scar."

Dumbledore proceeded to hide Harry's scar and to give Harry brown eyes, a pointed nose, more rounded face, a huskier build and any number of other small changes. When he was done, he turned to Snape.

"Will that do, Severus?" he asked.

Snape looked at Harry appraisingly. "I suppose he'll pass."

Harry was irritated to find himself sighing in relief.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said, dispassionately, "you will gather your things and take yourself down to my private quarters immediately. I trust you know the way," Snape raised his eyebrows in a way that confirmed to Harry that Snape hadn't forgotten the night when he had brought Caydon down to Snape's quarters. Harry wasn't sure if this was a good thing. "You will stay in the sitting room with Caydon until we are ready to leave. You will _not_ go into any other part of my quarters and you will _not_ touch anything that you don't absolutely need too. I still have several things that I need to finish up before we can leave and may be several minutes."

* * *

After putting it off for as long as he thought possible, Harry went down to Snape's quarters and knocked timidly on the door. Caydon flung it open, grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him inside, not at all fazed by Harry's new appearance.

"There you are!" he cried, "hurry and come in. I'm starving!"

"Starving?"

"Yes, Papa made some lunch for me and you, but he said it wasn't polite to eat until you got here."

"He did? Ah. I guess if you told him that I made you wait, then he would know that I didn't come right down here like he told me too."

Caydon gave Harry an odd look. "Why does everything have to be a plot to make your life miserable?"

"Because it _is_ with your father," Caydon opened his mouth to reply, but Harry cut him off. "No, I'm serious Caydon. Look, I hate to say bad things to you about your father to you because I hate it when people do that to me, but he has been an incredible git to me ever since I started at Hogwarts. He despises me and you shouldn't have gotten me to come because it's just going to make everything worse."

Caydon raised an eyebrow at Harry, quite unimpressed with this tirade. "Are you finished?" he asked.

"Um . . . yes," Harry said, finding that he was breathing heavily.

"Good, let's eat."

"Caydon!"

Caydon flinched. "Harry, you didn't tell me anything that I didn't already know or guess. You just have to trust me," Caydon abruptly turned away from Harry, took a piece of bread from a small end table and stuffed it in his mouth.

"I'm supposed to trust _you_ with my life?"

Caydon nodded, his mouth full of food.

"Caydon! You're just a child!"

Caydon rolled his eyes and swallowed. "Oh and you are so very mature," he snorted.

Harry didn't know how to respond to this and fumed silently as he watched Caydon eat.

After a few minutes, Snape swept into the room. "Ready to go, Potter?" he asked, throwing a glance in Harry's direction. "Have you eaten today?"

"Uh . . ."

"Not even breakfast? Eat. You are too thin. I was noticing it when the Headmaster was altering your appearance. Caydon, if you are not planning on eating _everything_ on that platter, then would you please give Mr. Potter some lunch?"

"He offered me some," Harry said.

"Then you should have accepted, I don't want you fainting anytime today. Caydon, there will be plenty of that kind of food at home. It isn't as though it is sugar."

Harry gaped at Snape. "You mean you don't have _sugar_?"

"It is rather hard to come by, yes."

Harry didn't know what to think of this. He had never eaten a lot of sweets – it wasn't as though he had gotten a great many as a child, but the idea of sugar being hard to come by was almost frightening. Aware of Snape's eyes on him, Harry began to obediently munch on a piece of ham. Snape nodded, as if satisfied and went into one of the back rooms where Harry heard him begin to rummage about. Caydon, who seemed to have finally satisfied his hunger, gazed at Harry with one of his intense, thoughtful looks that so unnerved Harry.

"Sir," Harry said, as Snape came back into the room, "how are we going to get . . . to where we are going?"

"We're going to floo most of the way. Then it's takes about an hour to walk into the village."

"Where—"

"No more questions, Potter. From this moment on, your name is Bryon Branbaum, you are an Owned from another village who is visiting my family for the holidays, and you _don't _ask questions about things any Owned should know in public."

"This isn't public," Caydon pointed out.

"Bryon Branbaum?"

"Is an extremely common Owned name," Snape snapped, as though he expected Harry to make a fuss about it, "and is therefore perfect for your situation."

After Snape had readied the floo, he turned to give Harry and Caydon an appraising look.

"Caydon, you go first," he said after looking them both over. Harry felt a bit insulted by this, he suspected that Snape was implying that he didn't know how to use the floo. Perhaps he had heard of the Knockturn Alley incident in Harry's second year.

Caydon stepped forward and took the floo powder, eagerly.

"Covert Cottage," Snape told him simply. After Caydon had left, Snape held out the floo powder to Harry. "I trust you know how to use the floo, Potter."

_Okay, Snape is definitely mocking me._

"What about our luggage, sir?" Harry asked, allowing a slight note of disrespect to creep into his voice.

"I've made arrangements," Snape seemed to understand the sarcasm perfectly. Harry grabbed a handful of floo powder, roughly.

"Potter," Snape said as Harry stepped into the fireplace. Harry turned to look at his professor. "I expect you to treat my family and anyone else you may meet with the utmost respect."

"I always respect people who respect me _sir_," Harry said, and with that he left, using the floo.

Harry coughed as he stepped out of the fireplace to find Caydon looking rather like an overgrown owl, with his wide eyes and sooty face. Snape arrived a moment later and to Harry's great disappointment, the older man wasn't sporting one speck of dust. Snape glanced at Harry and Caydon and immediately snorted with something that sounded vaguely like laughter.

"Wipe the soot off your faces," he said, disdainfully.

"What about a cleaning charm?" Caydon asked, taking a hopelessly filthy handkerchief out of his pocket and smearing it around his face. Harry attempted to wipe some of the soot off his own face with his hand, and judging by the state of it, he was not nearly as dirty as Caydon.

"No good," Snape said shortly. "this is a bit of a magical dead zone. Using the floo takes all the magical energy right out of the place for a few hours." Harry glanced around him and saw that they were in a small house, more of a shack really. It was clearly long abandoned. Furniture was overturned and rotting, moss growing on much of it. A large portion of the roof had caved in, giving way to cold, gray sky.

Snape gave a long suffering sigh as he watched the two of them try to clean off. "Oh, just come along then," he grunted, taking long strides out the doorway (the door was laying off its hinges, just inside the room).

Harry looked at Caydon, who shrugged his shoulders and rushed to catch up with his father.

The landscape was like nothing Harry had ever seen. He couldn't exactly call it a wasteland, though it was very barren. A short, gray type of grass that almost matched the sky grew for as far as the eye could see. Yet, every now and then, inexplicably, a large, healthy (but bare, because it was winter) tree would jut up from the ground, like a taunt to the desolate area. Harry shivered with cold, and stuck his hands in his coat pockets. Surely, no one could live here?

"Where are we?" Harry asked. Snape didn't answer, but continued to move in the same direction (Harry couldn't tell if it was north, south, east, or west) in long strides. Caydon was trotting to keep up.

"I mean, I'm assuming it's in Britain," Harry said, almost doubtfully.

"You should never make assumptions, Potter," Snape's deep voice was loud and strangely flat in the perfect silence that surrounded them.

A few minutes later, when Caydon fell a bit behind his father, Harry tried to ask him the same question.

"I honestly don't know, Harry. I've never come this way."

"But where you live – is it in Britain?"

"I don't know. It isn't the type of thing most Owned are told."

"Does your father know then?" Harry asked, in surprise, thinking that he may have found the reason for Snape's mysteriousness.

"He might. Lucius Malfoy really trusts him, after all."

They walked along for what seemed like hours, though it could have been much less, because the light never seemed to change. The bleakness that Harry saw all around him, the cold that always seemed to be _just_ bearable, and the quick, but never changing pace that Snape set for them began to get to Harry. He felt oddly detached from the rest of the world, as though the magical world of Hogwarts and his horribly mundane life at the Dursleys before had never existed. All that existed was grayness all around him, and three sets of feet thumping out a dull rhythm. It reminded Harry of some of his darker dreams, the ones not related to Voldemort. He began to wonder what a drop of his blood would look like against all that gray.

_What's wrong with me?_ Harry thought angrily. _Nothing bad is happening here, we're just _walking

"Papa!" Caydon's shrill voice cut through the silence for the first time in what seemed like hours. "Can we take a break?" Harry noticed, for the first time that one of Caydon's small hands was tightly clutching at Snape's robes.

Snape stopped and crouched down to Caydon's eye level and, in the gentlest voice Harry had ever heard him use, said; "I don't think it is a good idea to stay here too long, Caydon." He looked back at Harry, and, covering his mouth with his hand, whispered something in Caydon's ear. The boy nodded and walked back toward Harry. A very subdued walk it was, none of the normal skipping or scurrying that so contributed to his clumsiness. Harry was shocked when Caydon reached out to grab his hand and squeezed it tightly, then, without a word, walked forward so that they were holding hands. Harry tried to catch Snape's eye, but the man had went ahead, completely ignoring both of them.

As they continued, Harry realized that Caydon's presence was surprisingly reassuring. It was rather hard to think of blood running across his fingertips, when Caydon's small hand was clasped so firmly in his own.

Shortly after this, Harry realized that they were walking toward something – a pile of rocks, he decided, after a few more minutes. Or several piles of rocks, the tallest being about twice Snape's height. Sometimes, Harry would believe that they formed some sort of pattern, but when he looked back, he thought he must just be imagining the whole thing.

Caydon dropped Harry's hand and ran back up to his father, apparently feeling more like his old self. "Is that where we're going, Papa?" he asked breathlessly.

Snape gave him a curt "yes" without slowing his pace.

When they made it to the rock columns, Snape began making his way through the columns, which were just far enough apart so that one person could walk between them comfortably. Harry could have sworn that no column of rock was the same the second time he looked at it, but he could never say precisely what was different about them. Perhaps, he was being extremely paranoid and imagining things. They came to the largest column, near the center of the group, and Harry saw that it had what appeared to be an arched doorway in it. If it was a doorway, then it led to nowhere; Harry could clearly see out the other side, and it was more rock columns.

"After you, Mr. Potter," Snape said, pointing to the doorway.

"What?" Harry asked him, strangely reluctant. "You want me to go through there? Why not just walk around?" Harry walked around the column, as though to demonstrate.

Snape rolled his eyes in a way that clearly meant that Harry was a moron. "Magic, Potter. You remember? The discipline that you have supposedly been studying for the past six years? Caydon, you'll have to go first again."

Caydon cheerfully walked through the doorway, but he never came out the other side. To Harry's eyes, he seemed to have disappeared. Harry only narrowly resisted the impulse to ask "Where did he go?" Snape arched an eyebrow at Harry.

"I get it, I get it," Harry snapped, not liking Snape's expression. "Magic."


	20. Into the Village

**Chapter 20: Into the Village**

Harry stumbled through the doorway in the column and bumped into Caydon, who ignored him. Harry took one looked around him and realized that he was somewhere very different. They were now standing in a wooded area in what looked to be early evening. There was a muddy road about a hundred yards away and Harry thought that he could hear a stream in the distance. Harry looked behind him and saw that they hadn't come out of a column at all, but out of a small opening in the rock. Harry couldn't see the back of the cave and jumped when he saw Snape coming out of the darkness.

At that moment, Caydon took off running toward the road.

"Caydon!" Harry called out, looking over at Snape who seemed unconcerned. Caydon reached the road and began looking quickly around, his head swiveling from side to side.

"I know where we are!" he called back a moment later. "Papa, the village is just around that corner, right?" he asked, pointing down the road.

"Quite," Snape muttered, walking toward his son, calmly.

As Harry and Snape approached the road, Harry could hear something – a horse and cart, he saw as he stepped out onto the road – rumbling toward them. Harry was overtaken by the desire to hide, even though he knew that no one could possibly recognize them.

Snape held up his hand to the man driving the cart. "Ho, Moore!" he yelled at the man.

The man, who looked a little older than Snape and was wearing nondescript brown robes, pulled the cart to a stop.

"Can I offer you a ride, Mister Snape?" he asked, respectfully.

"Yes, thank you, Moore," Snape replied. Snape climbed up beside the man and motioned for Harry and Caydon to climb into the back of the cart.

As they came around the corner, Harry gasped. The road slanted sharply downward, and in what could be described as more of a hole with steep hills on three sides than as a valley, there was a small town. Most of the houses had thatched roofs and were made of brown bricks of a type that Harry had never seen before. Near the river, a huge building that rather reminded Harry of a small muggle factory crouched low, emitting a greenish smoke from its large chimney which settled over the town in the form of a rather slimy film. Quite a distance from the town, so far that Harry couldn't see the details of it, was what looked like a small castle made of a more polished version of the brown bricks of the town; the Malfoy's home, he guessed.

"What is that?" Harry whispered to Caydon, nodding toward the enormous building by the river.

"Potions factory. The Malfoys are the world's foremost manufacturers of rare and unusual potions." Caydon whispered back. Harry was surprised at this, he hadn't known this. He wondered if "rare and unusual" was really code for "illegal and dangerous". Snape, who had been talking to Moore about things that seemed very boring to Harry, turned around to glower at the two of them; especially Harry.

As they came into the village, Harry saw that most of the squat, brown houses were incredibly small, if rather well maintained. Many people, most of them in brown robes very similar to Moore's, but some in robes of other colors stopped along the muddy streets to wave at Snape or Caydon or merely to stare.

After a while, they turned onto a street in which the houses were clearly nicer and larger. Harry noticed that peculiarly, each house had a small strip of green grass lawn in front of it, but not one stray weed managed to grow along the edge of the muddy road. Harry was relieved to see that the house that they stopped in front of was what he would consider normal sized. In fact, it was every bit as big as the Dursley's and was even two stories tall.

Snape told Harry and Caydon to get out of the cart. They had barely thanked Moore and wished him a good day, before a small dark-haired girl came lunging out of the house, across the lawn, and barreled into Caydon, giving him a large hug and almost knocking him over, she being nearly as big as he.

"Sophia," Snape said smoothly. "Please control yourself."

Sophia immediately detached herself from Caydon and composed herself. "Sorry, Papa," she chortled in the same adorable, if slightly obnoxious tones that Caydon occasionally used. Unlike Caydon, Sophia looked a great deal like Snape, with dark hair and eyes, pale skin, and a nose that was hooked, if not quite so long as her father's.

"Look, you've ruined your robes," Snape continued berating her, pointing to the hem of her robes which had picked up some of the mud from the streets. "And you haven't even greeted me or our guest."

Sophia was already fidgeting, nervously. "Sorry Papa," she repeated. "I missed you." She greeted Harry also and then turned back to Snape. "I made dinner, Papa!" she announced.

"What! Where is your mother?"

"She's sick in bed again. She told me to do it because I have to learn how to cook sometime. And Snooka supe – superdised."

"Supervised," Caydon corrected automatically.

Snape hurried into the house, presumably to make sure it wasn't about to burn down.

"Who's Snooka?" Harry asked Caydon as they idled up the walk.

"House Elf."

"You have a House Elf?"

"Well, not really. Snooka helps several families on this street. And she's really old."

"She's asleep in front of the oven again," Sophia giggled.

"She likes it because it's warm there," Caydon told her.

The inside of the house reminded rather reminded Harry of Snape's rooms. Everything was very stark and bare. The furniture was well built, but extremely plain. There was no unnecessary ornamentation whatsoever. Harry could see Snape talking very loudly to a stooped house-elf, asking her how she could have fallen asleep when his eight-year-old was attempting to cook. Snooka apologized in a slow, wavering sort of way. Snape, disgusted, threw up his hands and sent Snooka out of the house.

Harry had thought that Snape would want to go check on his wife immediately, since Sophia had said she was sick in bed, but he instead he merely put the final touches on dinner. The four of them sat down at the table, leaving two empty chairs. At first everyone was very quiet and Harry stared down at his plate, pushing his undercooked potatoes from one end to the other and lamenting his apparent lack of table manners when compared to the very neat and proper way that the Snapes ate. Harry was sure that Caydon had never cut his meat so delicately the other times that they had eaten together.

Soon, however, Sophia began to ask Caydon a million questions. Did he like Hogwarts? What was it like? Did he have Papa as a teacher? Did the staircases really move? Did he meet any muggleborns? Was it true that they were always dirty? She seemed mostly uninterested in Harry, whom she seemed to think was just a visiting Owned boy. For his part, Harry wished that he could ask her a series of similar questions. He felt about as clueless about this new world that he had been thrust into as she seemed to be about Hogwarts. Snape seemed distracted throughout the whole meal and said very little, but at one point, he looked up to ask Sophia where her brother was.

"Oh, Braedon was called up to the manor this morning," Sophia said cheerfully.

Snape winced, but looked as though he had been expecting the answer and he spent the rest of dinner staring out the window.

After dinner, Caydon took Harry up to his room which was actually the attic. The ceiling was just tall enough for Harry to avoid bumping his head on, although he supposed this would never become a problem for Caydon, but the room was very long and had two squat windows on each side. A ladder in the middle of the room allowed access to the house below. Caydon told him that one side of the room was his and one side was his brother's.

"You can have Braedon's bed, at least for tonight," Caydon mused. "I don't think he'll be back and he'll probably spend most of his nights away even if he spends his days here."

"Why would he spend his nights away?"

"I need to go say hello to my mother now, Harry – I mean, Bryon. You can get unpacked, if you like," Harry looked around to find that his trunk was setting against a wall.

"Okay. Er – I hope your mother is all right," Harry said out of politeness.

"Oh, don't worry. She'll be fine. She gets sick a lot, but she is always better in a day or two. A week at most."

As Harry was putting his things into a drawer that Caydon had shown him, he noticed that Braedon's side of the room was quite different than Caydon's and indeed from the rest of the house. Caydon's portion of the room was neat, plain with the only visible objects other than the furniture being several books, most of which had names like _Standard Stories For Owned Adolescents: Volume 7_ and _On the Value of Hard Work for Children._ For the most part, it reminded Harry of the rest of the drab little village.Braedon's side, on the other hand, was filled with odd, expensive looking trinkets that were scattered around the room haphazardly. There were various porcelain figurines; most of them of exotic animals such as elephants and lions, a silver box full some type of powder, a velvet tapestry on the wall, a silk bedspread, rather more jewelry than Harry would have expected in a boy's room, and what he thought was a box of chocolate, although he thought he remembered Snape saying that sugar was rare in the village. Most of the things were of top quality, but none of it seemed to match, as though they had been picked up item by item. Harry thought that he would feel uncomfortable sleeping here. It just seemed too much like someone else's room; too personal.

Harry quickly finished unpacking and went downstairs, hoping to find Caydon. Instead, he found Snape sitting at the kitchen table, his head buried in his hands. Harry turned to creep away, uncomfortable, when Snape's voice stopped him.

"What are you doing there alone, Potter?"

"Shouldn't you be calling me Bryon?"

Snape looked up to shoot him a scathing look.

"Something wrong, sir?"

"Migraine," Snape grunted.

"I didn't know you got migraines."

Snape mumbled something incomprehensible into his hand.

"You're a Potions Master, shouldn't you have a cure for that?" Harry asked.

"Is there a reason that you are standing there trying to make small talk and incidentally worsening my extremely painful migraine with your shrill voice?"

"I don't have a shrill voice," Harry objected, sitting down across from Snape.

"Maybe not, but you might as well have. You have all the conversational skills of a ten-year-old." With this, Snape stood up and took some water that had been boiling off the stove and poured it into a cup along with some rather disgusting looking green powder.

"Is that for your headache?"

"Yes, Bryon," Snape said, with the air of someone who was trying very hard not to loose his temper.

"You know, I get bad headaches sometimes, maybe you could . . ."

"Come and see me when you get one and I'll give you some of this solution."

"You could just give me a stock now . . ."

Snape snorted into his drink. "I'm hardly going to be responsible for you becoming addicted to potions, as well as being a cutter, Bryon."

"Keep it down," Harry hissed.

"No one was listening," Snape said, unusually careless."

"Papa," said a small voice from the doorway. Harry got a bit of satisfaction from seeing that Snape jumped just as high as he did.

Sophia was standing in the doorway, wearing a long nightgown and nightcap that were both blue-gray. Harry sighed with relief; even if she had heard what they were talking about, she was too young to understand it.

"Why aren't you in bed Sophia?" Snape asked.

"No one came to tuck me in."

Snape gave a long sigh. "Doesn't your mother usually do that?"

"But Mama is sick."

"Go get your brother. . ." Snape began, but Sophia cut him off.

"I want you to do it, Papa."

"Well then," Snape cleared his throat. "You just run along then and I'll be up in a minute."

Harry could have sworn that Snape was _blushing_. He kept looking over at Harry as if extremely embarrassed, although Harry had no idea why; this was one of the only times he had seen the man act halfway human.

As Harry watched Sophia leave, a thought occurred to him. "She's never been outside, has she? I mean, outside this village?"

Snape looked down at his hands, but answered Harry. "She's only been on land that wasn't owned by the Malfoys once, when her mother took her to visit some of her relatives – in another Owned village."

"And the same for Caydon? Before he came to Hogwarts, I mean," Harry knew he should stop; Snape was sure to reach his breaking point at any second, but he couldn't resist asking questions.

"Many Owned live their entire lives without ever leaving their villages and the lands immediately around them."

"I see. Where is your oldest son?"

"Weren't you listening at dinner? He's at the Malfoys' house."

"But why?"

Snape looked up and Harry felt sure from the man's expression, that he was about to get yelled at, but Snape merely said; "I think that will be enough questions for tonight, Bryon." He left Harry alone with his thoughts.


	21. Braedon

**Warnings: Implied male/male or slash relationship in this chapter. Language. Rating would probably be a rough PG.**

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* * *

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Chapter Twenty-One: Braedon

For once, Harry was sleeping peacefully. Wrapped in layers of warm blankets, his dreams were peaceful. Suddenly, a weight bore down upon him.

"_Somebody is trying to lay on me_," Harry thought in his sleep.

Harry awoke with a start to find a crude wand leveled about two inches from his face. A boy about Harry's own age stared down at him in the darkness.

"Who are you?" the stranger asked coldly.

_Harry Potter_, Harry almost replied in his half dreaming state. "Er, Bryon Baum . . . I mean Bryon Branbaum," Harry struggled drowsily to remember the name.

The boy withdrew his wand and retreated into the shadows, leaning against a chest of drawers and allowing Harry to see little of him but a dark profile and his eyes shining in the dark. Harry thought there was something very strange about the eyes and he wished that the boy would step into the moonlight so he could see what it was.

"Oh, _you_," the boy yawned lazily into his hand.

"You're Caydon's brother, aren't you?" asked Harry.

"Rather. My mother told me that you were coming, but no one saw fit to inform me that you would be sleeping in my bed!"

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered uncomfortably. "Caydon told me to sleep here. He seemed to think that you would be gone all night."

They both looked over at Caydon who was face down and apparently sound asleep.

"The little mouse sleeps like the dead," Braedon remarked. "And of course he wouldn't be awake to see all the trouble that he's caused," the last was said almost fondly.

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated, struggling to get up under what he had discovered were several layers of blankets. "I'll take the floor. I shouldn't have—"

"No, no," Braedon moved to push him back down onto the bed. "Stay where you are. _I'll _take the floor. You are our _guest_ after all. I was just startled by you. It's not often that I come home at four o'clock in the morning to find a boy in my bed. Well, not _that_ often, anyway. I'll need one of my blankets though."

"Oh, er . . . right."

"_Not_ that one!" Braedon exclaimed, as Harry attempted to pull the topmost blanket off the pile. I don't want to ruin it. The plain one."

"Oh," Harry handed him the plain blanket, identical to Caydon's, that had been under all the layers. He wondered if Braedon would be uncomfortable, sleeping on the cold, stone floor, but before he could ask the boy pulled a mat out from under his bed.

* * *

"_Bryon_," a small voice was saying in his ear, "wake up."

Harry shook himself awake to find Caydon looking at him. "It's almost time for breakfast and Papa will be angry if we're late," he said and then he walked over to his brother and gave him a kick. "Get up, Braedon!"

"Ow," Braedon grunted. Harry arose from bed and began to get dressed, but Braedon just rolled over.

"Braedon, _get up_!" Caydon kicked him again.

"Ow! Caydon! I got in very late last night!" Braedon sat up and regarded his brother irritably.

"Papa will expect you downstairs."

"Just tell him I'm not home yet."

"I'm not going to lie to him. And wash all that goo off your face before you go down."

Harry realized, with a start, what was so strange about Braedon's eyes – he was wearing eyeliner! He also appeared to be wearing whatever it was that girls put on their faces to cover pimples. Braedon buried his face in a pillow, but then got up and sat down in front of what appeared to be a sort of makeshift vanity – that is, it was a small table with a stool in front of it and a mirror propped up on top of it. Braedon was several inches shorter than Harry, but not unnaturally small like his brother. Otherwise, he looked rather like his brother, but perhaps with sharper features. He had wavy brown shoulder-length hair, ruddy skin, dark blue eyes and Harry would have called him good looking if not for the unfortunate fact that he appeared to have inherited his father's nose. Braedon seemed very aware that his nose was his worst feature; as he looked over himself in the mirror and carefully removed his makeup, he kept scowling and pushing down on it, as though he could flatten it. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen a boy spend so much time looking in a mirror. He was beginning to seriously wonder what Braedon had been doing at the Malfoy's last night.

"So you are home, are you?" Snape said to his oldest son as soon as Braedon made it (late) to breakfast.

"Yes Father," Braedon said in a controlled voice.

"I had hoped that you would be here to greet your brother and I. And our guest," Snape added as an afterthought.

"You had to know that Draco would want to see me yesterday. He's been at Hogwarts for months." Harry raised his eyebrows at this.

This caused Snape to scowl and he spent most of the rest of the meal glaring at his son. Even Caydon and Sophia seemed to notice the tension and stayed mostly quiet.

"I want you boys to organize the books in my office today. All three of you," Snape raised his voice a bit at the end, to speak over Caydon and Braedon groaning.

"We just organized them the last time you were home!" Braedon said. "You always do this! As soon as you come home you start looking for chores for us to do."

"We are supposed to be on Christmas _vacation_," Caydon added.

Snape held up his hand. "Silence," he said sternly, with the air of one who is about to begin a lecture. "If you boys were House Owned or Low Owned then you would be thankful for such an easy chore."

"But we're _not _Low Owned," Braedon put in, somewhat sarcastically.

Snape frowned at him. "You have been getting very impertinent lately. Perhaps you have been forgetting your upbringing spending so much time up at the manor?"

Braedon flushed at this, but tried a different tactic. "Father," he whined, "I was out working very late last night and I have to return this evening. I need to sleep."

Snape was utterly unsympathetic to this plea, if anything, his face hardened further. "Well, Draco will just have to make do with a sleepy servant, won't he?" Braedon slumped in his chair moodily.

"I want to help," Sophia said timidly after a moment.

"You're too young and besides, you need to keep your mother company."

Harry had thought it odd that Caydon and Braedon rebelled so strongly until he saw Snape's collection of books. He had assumed, based on the sparseness of everything in the home and the fact that Snape had so many books in his office at Hogwarts, that he wouldn't have that many books here. He was wrong. Snape's office was small, but every square inch of the wall, with the exception of a tall narrow wooden cabinet in the back corner is covered with books, many of them old or poorly made, most of them potions texts. Harry sighed dejectedly when he saw them.

"I know how you feel," Braedon whispered to him.

They began to organize the books according to subject and alphabetically. Harry wondered how they could have gotten so out of order, if the brothers just did this a few months ago. They also had to dust each one carefully which caused Caydon to sneeze.

"This is an interesting looking book," said Caydon conversationally, picking up a huge tome. "It's about how to increase the effectiveness of restorative potions by –"

"That is not interesting Caydon," Braedon told him. Harry snorted. Caydon stuck his tongue out at his brother. Caydon didn't get nearly as much done as the other two. Besides being unable to reach the books on high shelves, he also often stopped to read.

"I didn't know that you liked potions so much Caydon," Harry said after a while.

"Oh, yes," Caydon answered him, "Potions is my favorite subject in school."

"I bet you are teacher's favorite too," Braedon said, somewhat viciously.

"I am n – achoo!" Caydon sneezed.

"Perhaps you should go get a glass of water before you have an allergic fit," Braedon told him, a bit more gently. Caydon left and Harry was found himself alone with Snape's oldest son who was flinging books into their places rather carelessly.

"So you don't like potions?" Harry asked him, more as a way to fill up the silence than anything else.

"Are you joking? Of course I don't like potions. Do you think that I want to spend all my time mixing nasty things together in a cauldron?"

Harry laughed. "That's what I always thought. I like magic with immediate results."

"Potions is emphasized really strongly at the Malfoy's Owned school. Father always says that any of the twelve-year-olds here could beat Hogwarts' seventh years at brewing a potion. Of course he also says that the Hogwarts children are so far ahead of us in the other subjects that we couldn't hope to keep up."

Harry scratched his head. Wasn't this rather like saying that Snape was a bad teacher? Potions was taught for seven years at Hogwarts, after all.

"You – umm – have your own school?"

"Yes. Our school has five years after the primary levels. Many Owned schools only have three. _I_ wanted to quit after my third year, but my parents wouldn't let me," he looked at Harry slyly. "But of course you must already know this, being Owned yourself."

"Oh – ahem – yes."

Braedon laughed. "It's all right. My mother told me that you are really someone from Hogwarts. You are probably involved with all the plotting my father does against his masters, but I won't ask questions."

"You know about your father's activities?" Harry asked quickly.

"Well, not much."

"But aren't you Draco Malfoy's –" Harry doesn't know the right word. Love slave? Catamite? Boyfriend?

Braedon's face darkened. "It is not what you think it is."

"How do you know what I think it is?"

Braedon looked away from him. "You aren't Owned and you don't come from a family of Owners or else you wouldn't be asking all these questions. People from outside the system never understand – they always think that I'm being _forced _or that I'm to be pitied or . . ." he trailed off.

Harry can't believe what he is hearing. All he can think of is Caydon, crying and beaten and so scared after Draco hurt him that night. And now hear was Caydon's brother telling him that he harbored some sort of romantic feelings for that rich bastard.

"I've been with Draco practically all my life," he tossed his head proudly here. "When I was baby I was chosen to be his Shadow."

"His shadow?"

"Yes, when an Owner reaches his third birthday, a boy (or in the case of females, a girl) is chosen from among the Owned to be his playmate. I was chosen for Draco and every morning, my mother would get me dressed and take me up to Malfoy Manor to be with him. I would do everything with him – I was even tutored alongside him until the time that he started Hogwarts."

"You were like his shadow," Harry said wryly.

"Hence the name. So you see? There is no need to pity me."

Harry was not so sure about this, but he said nothing. Instead, he pointed to the cabinet: "What's in there?"

"More books. All the ones that Papa doesn't want us to see."

"Books about the Dark Arts?"

"Mostly. And some books about sex." Harry nearly gagged at this. Braedon went on, oblivious, "I've broken into it before. But don't tell my father."

The door opened, but it wasn't Caydon, it was Sophia. "Braedon, I want to help," she said. "Mama is asleep."

"You _do_?" Braedon picked her up and she squealed with laughter. "How about if I let you have my place and I can go rest. And if Caydon is snippy when he comes back tell him I said to mind his own business." Braedon set the girl down, gave Harry a wink and left the room.

When Caydon returned, he _was_ rather snippy. "Papa will come to check on us soon and Braedon will be in trouble," he predicted.

They worked through the morning and into the afternoon, but Snape never came to check on them. When they went out to the kitchen, the found a small women fussing about. "Mama, you're out of bed!" Sophia said, running to her mother and giving her a hug.

"Yes," she laughed patting her daughter on the head, "the fit is over."

"Are you sure that you should be up and about so soon, Mama?" Caydon asked.

"Oh, I'll be fine, Caydon," she said and letting go of her daughter, she stuck her hand out to Harry. "You must be Bryon," she said, shaking him by the hand and smiling warmly. "I am Cordelia Snape, you may call me Cora if you like – most people do. You have a very strong aura, Bryon." This odd statement and the frank way in which it was delivered caught Harry completely off guard. She seemed like the last person Harry would have expected Snape to be married to – her expression was opened, if a bit pained behind the eyes. Harry thought that she must have once been very good looking with her curly brown hair, dark blue eyes, and round features, but she was very tiny – Caydon must have gotten his height from her – Harry would swear that she was under five feet and she seemed prematurely aged. She couldn't have been any older than Snape, but her hair already had a lot of grey and her face was covered with lines. She handled Caydon and Sophia with ease and grace and they obviously adored her.

Mrs. Snape (Harry couldn't quite bring himself to call her by her first name) had made them a small lunch which they ate with gusto. Halfway through the meal, Snape came home and he appeared to be in unusually good mood, for he asked Sophia what she had been doing with herself and actually listened to her prattle on about rag doll, which Harry now noticed that she was holding, and her schooling. Harry was very surprised to learn that magic was taught in the lower levels at her school.

"The rules are different for Owned children," Snape announced to the table in general, but Harry knew the words were for his ears. "It is generally considered too dangerous to teach small children the preliminary workings of magic – but most Owners want their servants to learn these things early so that they can make themselves useful sooner."

Sophia gave him the oddest look, as if he had just stated that the sky was blue and even Caydon, who had to know that Harry wouldn't know anything about this, giggled.

* * *

That night, Harry couldn't sleep. This place was so strange! In some ways it was better than he had expected, he was beginning to suspect that Caydon had a much better childhood than him. At the same time, it all seemed horrible. There were so many strange differences. How could these people be so happy when their lives weren't their own?

Harry got up and went downstairs to get a glass of water. He was halfway across the kitchen before he realized that Snape was sitting at the table. Harry jumped. "Hello, Bryon" Snape's voice was amused. He took a sip out of his cup.

"Hello, sir," Harry said, panicking a bit. "I couldn't sleep, I was just --"

"You are allowed to come downstairs for a glass of milk, if you are having trouble sleeping."

This was a surprise to Harry. "Really? At Hogwarts –"

"Hogwarts is school. We can hardly have students wandering about the halls at night. Besides, anyone out after midnight is never up to any good."

"I'm a light sleeper," Harry said apologetically.

"I had noticed."

Harry got a glass of water and hesitantly sat down at the table across from Snape. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Your oldest son – he knows that I'm not who I claim to be."

Snape nodded. "Yes, I considered not telling him or my wife, but I thought it best to do so. This way they won't inadvertently reveal any crucial information. I think he would have known something was wrong anyway. You and Caydon are quite obvious about it. Caydon always puts an odd emphasis on your name when he calls you "Bryon" – he might as well just wink at you. And you take far too long to answer to answer to the name. Like most Gryffindors, you both lack guile."

Harry was going to remind Snape, indignantly, that _he_ had almost given the whole thing away last night, but he suddenly realized something. "You knew that Caydon wasn't going to be in Slytherin before he was ever sorted, didn't you?"

"Yes," Snape smiled slightly into his cup, "Caydon is manipulative enough in his own little way, but he doesn't have an ounce of ambition or – as I mentioned – guile. Though I did see a possibility of his being in Ravenclaw."

"Is that the house you hoped he would be in?"

"I didn't' _hope_ for any house in particular. If I had, it would have been Slytherin, but I knew that there was little chance of that."

"But you hate Gryffindors," Harry objected.

Snape's eyebrows flew up at this. "Wherever did you come by such a peculiar idea?" he asked.

"You're always taking points from Gryffindors and treating us unfairly."

"I most certainly am not. I will admit – and don't ask me to do this again – that I have, in the past, been unfair to you, but to Gryffindors in general? I think not."

"I've never seen you give Gryffindor a point!"

"Have you ever seen me give any of the houses, even Slytherin, many points?"

"Well – no. But you never take points from Slytherin."

"Ah. Well, I do go easier on my own house. Something that all the other professors do, I might add. But I don't treat Gryffindor any differently than I treat Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. And who will look out for my house, if I don't? There are no other professors in the school who are former Slytherins."

"McGonagall doesn't treat us any differently."

"I assure you that she was quite different in that regard before she became Deputy Headmistress. She now thinks that she needs to show impartiality."

Harry thought about all this for a moment. The idea that Snape didn't hate Gryffindors was staggering. It was something that he had assumed to be true since his first year.

"I always thought that you hated Gryffindor because of my father," he admitted quietly.

Snape looked mildly offended at this. "You are very conceited. Everything in my life does not revolve around your father."

"Oh." After a moment of silence, Harry changed the subject. "I don't mean to offend you or bring up a painful subject, but –"

"Yes?"

"Your son seems very close to Draco Malfoy. That's none of my business of course – it's just that . . ."

"He won't betray us, if that is what you are thinking. Braedon knows that if the Malfoys ever found out about my work against Voldemort, I would be killed and my whole family – including him – would be punished. He may be infatuated with Draco, but he will not ruin our plans. He is also very good at hiding things. Braedon would have made a good Slytherin." Harry thought that he heard just a bit of wistfulness creep into Snape's voice here, as though sad that his son never got to go to Hogwarts.

"He couldn't keep his relationship with Draco hidden from me for two minutes," Harry pointed out.

Snape smiled sadly. "He sees no reason why that should be hidden."


	22. Odd Roles

**Warnings for Chapter: Talk of sexuality, some gender switching and slashiness, maybe some language.**

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Chapter 22: Odd Roles

When Harry woke up the next morning, he nearly stepped on a young woman who was lying in the floor by his bed. He yelped and sat back down on the bed, covering himself with blankets and blushing.

The girl sat up and regarded him. "I can't remember the last time I saw such a shy young man, Branbaum," she said with a wink and an oddly familiar toss of her head. There was something about her looks and mannerisms that made Harry certain that he had met her before. Then, it hit him.

"You're – you're –" Harry sputtered, his eyes widening in realization.

"Caydon's 'brother'?" she asked, in a voice that Harry thought was supposed to be mimicking his own.

"But that's – but you – Malfoy makes you turn into a girl?"

The girl – Braedon's eyes narrowed. "I don't think that you've quite grasped the concept of a consensual relationship yet, Branbaum."

"I – I thought when you told me that you were . . . with Malfoy -- that it meant that he was gay."

Braedon rolled her eyes. "I don't do this _all_ the time, you know. Haven't you ever heard of people having kinks?" She looked into Harry's face and sighed. "No, I suppose that you haven't. You really are an innocent, aren't you?"

Harry studied Braedon more carefully. He was quite sure that the young man wasn't merely dressed like a girl – he was actually female. In fact, Braedon looked a good deal different than he had as a boy. Harry didn't know how he even recognized him. This young woman was several inches shorter and had much softer features than Braedon. Harry had never really thought before about how different the features of men and women were.

"Oh, stop panicking," Braedon snapped at Harry. "It's just a potion. It'll wear off in a few hours. The gender switching potions is actually one of the specialties around here. It's fairly easy to brew, though of course it isn't the type of thing that they teach you in school."

"Right," Harry muttered.

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mention this little _episode _to my father."

Before Harry could answer, Caydon came into the room. "Mama wants us out of the house today," he said. "She gave me some money to run some errands and show Bryon the town."

"I can't go downstairs looking like this," Braedon cried.

Caydon frowned at him. "You'll have to stay up here with the door locked, then."

Braedon began muttering under her breath. Harry heard the phrase "treats me like a child", but he didn't know what was meant by this.

Caydon took Harry to a store that seemed to sell nearly everything and ordered various groceries. The shop keeper seemed to think Caydon very adorable, patted him on the head and gave him some small sweets in black wrappers. Caydon gave Harry a sweet but Harry was disappointed to find that it wasn't terribly sugary; in fact it tasted buttery more than anything else. As they were walking down the street, Harry noticed something odd. Right in the middle of the road was a large grey space that seemed to swirl and move as though it wasn't totally real. Harry watched as a woman sniffed disdainfully at it and carefully walked around.

"That's where all the magic got sucked up," Caydon said.

Harry looked at him. "What do you mean?'

"The Malfoys – and lots of other families, for that matter -- want everything around them to be perfect. The streets are mud resistant, the river takes a path that is the best for the inhabitants of the village and for the factory, the grass never grows past a certain height of its own accord and so on – all done by powerful magic, of course. But using so much magic isn't good for the land and it eventually not only looses its power, but becomes a dead zone, taking not only the magical energy, but also the spiritual energy out of the land."

"So that area that we came through when we got here . . ."

"The Malfoys have been using this technique for hundreds – maybe thousands – of years," Caydon whispered. "Once enough magical energy has been drained from an area, the village must be moved."

Harry was about to ask another question, but was suddenly very startled. He had seen someone he recognized. "Caydon," he said, pointing across the street "isn't that –"

"Darius Doorn?" Caydon said catching sight of the boy who was dressed in long, black robes. "Yes."

"I didn't know he was Owned!"

"Well, he is. House Owned, in fact, which makes it even more unusual that he should go to Hogwarts."

"How many Owned do the Malfoys have going to Hogwarts?"

"Just me and him at the moment. I think."

When they returned to Snape's house, Harry found Braedon (now a boy again) brushing his hair and looking at himself in the mirror. Harry felt very odd being in the same room with him. It didn't matter so much when Harry thought that he was just gay, but the idea that he sometimes took a potion to become a woman seemed creepy.

"You . . . um, actually _like_ Malfoy, don't you?" Harry asked, watching how Braedon had to make himself look just _perfect_.

"Of course. He's my best friend."

It seemed to Harry that there was something profoundly wrong with this statement. Didn't Braedon ever feel abused or deprived? Growing up so close to Draco Malfoy, didn't he ever see him for spoiled, cruel little brat that he was, the way that Harry had seen through Dudley? Didn't he ever compare his situation to Malfoy's and think that he deserved better?

"Do you think that Draco likes you?"

"You really are very slow, do you know that?"

"But doesn't he ever – you know – hit you?"

Braedon turned to Harry with some anger in his face. "Of course not! I've never seen Draco beat an Owned."

"_Never_?" Harry asked, thinking of the night that Malfoy hurt Caydon.

"No. Lucius would never allow him to strike an Owned in a fit of temper – which, I think is the only time that Draco might have done it, if he has it in him at all. I don't think that he does. Lucius was a great proponent of self-control. He believed that one should deal out penalty after rationally thinking out which type of punishment would be the most effective and the most appropriate. It should be a tool to use to one's advantage, not an outlet for one's anger."

"Listen, I don't mean to offend you, but I know Draco from school and –"

"And what?" Braedon slammed a jeweled box that he had been looking through shut and turned to Harry, angry.

"And he's a bully!"

For a moment, Harry thought that Braedon was going to punch him, but the boy merely stood up. "I don't have to listen to this from you," he said, walking out of the room.

Harry followed him downstairs. "I was trying to _help_ you. I know Malfoy and he's just not a good person!"

"You couldn't possibly know Draco as well as I do. And who are you to judge whether he's a 'good person' –" Braedon cut off abruptly when he entered the kitchen and saw his mother seated at the table with two men in expensive looking robes. The three stopped whatever conversation they had been having and looked at the two boys. Both Mrs. Snape and Braedon had adopted very closed expressions.

"Are these your children, Cordelia?" one of the men asked, getting up and coming over to where Harry and Braedon were standing, near the doorway.

"Just Braedon," she said gesturing at her son who inspecting his fingernails and looking extremely bored. "The other is a guest."

The man grabbed Harry by the chin and held his face up as though for inspection. Harry was too surprised to pull away from him, but he flinched at the man's rancid breath. The man quickly moved on to Braedon. "I remember you," he said, "but you were just a little boy the last time I saw you – you're the Malfoys' son's Shadow. Am I correct?"

Braedon yawned dramatically. "Yes."

"You certainly have grown up."

"Most children do, sir."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Quite," he said and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that Braedon had somehow won the exchange.

As soon as the two men left, Mrs. Snape turned to both of them furiously. "I thought I told you to stay out of here!" she yelled. Harry was very taken aback.

"I forgot," Braedon answered her, as though not at all upset. "Besides, I can handle myself, as you just saw. I am not a child, Mother."

"You can handle yourself," Mrs. Snape said, a bit sarcastically. "You really are a child if you think that."

"I don't understand," Harry interrupted. "Who were those men?"

Both mother and son started as though they hadn't realized that Harry was there. "They are friends of the Malfoys'," Mrs. Snape told him. "They came here to have their fortunes read. I'm a seer."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really?" He thought that she didn't act nearly as insane as Professor Trelawny.

"She's not one of those fake ones either," Braedon said proudly. "She's one of the best seers in the world."

"I don't know that I would say _that_, Braedon," she grinned at her son. "But I do my best."

"So those men were your customers?"

"They didn't pay me, if that's what you mean. It's considered proper form to have your Owned seers tell fortunes for your guests – especially important ones."

"That's why Mama was considered a worthy match for Papa, you know," Braedon whispered as soon as his mother's back was turned. "Because she was a seer."

"A worthy match?"

"Father was very intelligent and well-educated for an Owned. The Malfoys wanted to match him with someone with exceptional abilities – to produce better children. Unfortunately, I'm their first offspring and I'm neither unusually intelligent or a seer. Caydon got the intelligence, Sophia got Mama's talents."

"Sophia can do . . . that?" Harry was more than half convinced that fortune telling was all nonsense.

"Well, she shows some of the early signs. It's hard to tell in children so young," Braedon frowned. "It's mostly a good thing, I guess – she'll never have to do any real work if she can See, but people like that _do _often get sick. With Mama, it has mostly only impacted her body, but some seers go quite mad."

"So _that's_ why your mother is sick."

"Probably. Many middle-aged women get sick here, but Mama began it particularly early."

"Why didn't your mother want us down here when those men were around?"

Braedon frowned and hesitated, but then rolled his eyes and answered Harry. "She's always been like that, even when we were very small. Some Owners have – have a taste for children, I suppose. _Not_ the Malfoys," Braedon clarified hastily, seeing Harry's shocked expression. "I've always thought that Mama and Papa were a bit paranoid about it, actually. I don't think that type of thing is looked on very favorably by most Owners."

* * *

That night, Harry again had trouble sleeping and crept into the kitchen.

"You know," Snape's voice came from the shadows, "Father Christmas is never going to visit you if you stay up this late on Christmas Eve."

Harry turned around, not much surprised by Snape's presence, but shocked by how odd those particular words sounded coming out of Snape's mouth. "Don't you ever sleep, sir?"

"Don't you?" Snape returned smoothly.

"Do your children believe in Father Christmas?" Harry asked, not wanting to talk about his sleeping habits.

"Only Sophia now, I believe."

Harry slouched down and crossed his arms. "I thought that maybe you didn't do that kind of thing here."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Well, we certainly don't indulge in the frenzied display of consumerism that you are probably used to in the muggle world, but we manage to give our children a few Christmas gifts."

Harry banged his fist on the table. "More than I ever got," he muttered.

"Excuse me?"

Harry stood up. "I just wish that you would stop saying that I am spoiled! Nothing could be further from the truth."

"Really? When one requests to be regarded as _not_ spoiled, one generally doesn't throw a temper tantrum while doing so."

"I never even had a real Christmas gift until I got to Hogwarts, you know."

"Your family didn't celebrate Christmas?"

Harry could tell that Snape thought that this was the answer. That Harry had been trying to fool the man into pitying him. Harry took utter satisfaction in the fact that, for once, Snape couldn't read him. Maybe he would even manage to win an argument.

"They most certainly _did_, sir," Harry said. "My cousin got dozens of gifts every year, but they never gave me anything. Well, I shouldn't say _anything_. Sometimes they would give me one of Uncle Vernon's old socks or something."

"Did they ever beat you?" Snape asked the question so smoothly, so neutrally.

"Not exactly."

"And they provided you with food, shelter?"

"They made me live in a _cupboard_. They weren't – they didn't – I didn't have a good childhood. I _envy_ your children, sir."

"Yes, I suppose that they are fortunate in some ways," Snape said. "But I wouldn't envy them if I were you. The only future that they have is as Owned."

"Having a 'future' is overrated. At least they have parents, siblings, people who love them."

Snape rapped his knuckles on the table. "They have a father who has no talent with children whom they see a couple of months out of the year and a mother who will probably die before Caydon graduates from Hogwarts. Hardly wonderful circumstances."

Harry blinked. He hadn't thought of this.

"I won't call you spoiled anymore, if you cease your ridiculous attempts to make everyone feel sorry for you. It is absurd – I understand that your childhood may not have been ideal, but you are the Boy Who Lived. You have the whole wizarding world at your feet. Besides, you are hardly going to impress me – I grew up in the home of Abraxas Malfoy."


	23. Christmas

**AN: I've been extremely remiss about replying to reviews and about updating lately. I'll try to do better. This chapter contains talk of cutting, language, and somewhat adult conversations.**

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Chapter 23: Christmas

In one of the biggest shocks of his life, Harry had held long conversations with Snape for the last several nights. Snape almost always seemed to be awake, no matter what the time and it was almost _easy_ to talk to the man. Harry almost forgot that he was the same bastard who had tormented him since his first year. It was strange, but Snape was easy to talk to because he didn't care about Harry and he didn't expect much from him. Harry could tell him something and if it didn't put him in any physical danger, Snape would listen and give him an objective answer. He didn't feel sorry for Harry or worry overly much about his emotional state and Harry didn't have to worry about him overreacting. Most of the people he knew either wished him ill or were his friends who had expectations on how he should act. Snape didn't seem to fall in either category anymore. Harry knew that Snape wouldn't do anything to harm him other than perhaps a few sharp words in class, but he also wasn't someone who depended on or cared about Harry.

When Harry went downstairs on Christmas Eve, he was disappointed that he could not immediately find Snape. However, the man soon came downstairs and he appeared to have a bag slung over his shoulders.

"What were you doing?" Harry asked.

"Playing Father Christmas," Snape answered.

Harry took one look at Snape with his sallow skin, black robes, and dour expression and he burst into laughter.

"Are you quite all right, Bryon?"

"Oh – oh, yes," Harry chortled, "it's just – you should have dressed up, sir." The thought of Snape dressed up as Father Christmas was too much for Harry and he began laughing so hard that his sides ached.

Snape didn't even smile. "You have no respect," he muttered and sat down next to Harry. "And I am afraid that Father Christmas will have a hard time visiting you when you are not asleep."

"I'm not six, sir. And besides, who would there be to give me a Christmas gift? My friends don't know the – ah, address."

"Well, my wife seemed to think that it would be some sort of atrocity for you not to have any Christmas presents. And Professor Dumbledore sent you something."

Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Dumbledore? What's he up to now?"

Snape arched an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Don't you think that you are just a _bit_ hard on Professor Dumbledore sometimes?"

"No! I can't believe that I ever admired him so much. He's so manipulative."

Snape seemed to think for a moment before answering. "Maybe," he admitted, "but most leaders are. They have to be. Professor Dumbledore has to think of a lot of different people."

"I still can't trust him."

"You are ridiculous. Do you have any concept of how hard it must be to be responsible for so many people?"

Harry shrugged.

"Oh, I forgot," Snape's voice was sarcastic, "Harry Potter thinks that he has to save the world."

Harry shrugged again. "I know that Dumbledore has a lot of people depending on him, but I think that he could be a little more honest."

"Honesty is overrated because people are idiots. And often, wicked idiots. You know, your father trusted Dumbledore absolutely."

"I don't care."

Snape threw up his hands in frustration. "You just love to spite me, don't you? For years, you won't hear a word against your sainted father and the one time, the _one time_ that I try to use it to my advantage, you change your mind."

"I don't feel quite as strongly about my father as I used to – I just know that insulting a person's parents is really a way – one of the worst ways – of insulting that person."

"Well – yes, I suppose so."

"Sir, I've been meaning to ask you something. Do you think that my father loved my mother?"

"_What_?"

"I mean, do you think that he was – you know – a faithful husband?"

"Why, in the name of all that is sacred in this world, would you ask me, of all people, a question like that?"

"It's just, well it's because of something that my uncle said that stuck in my mind."

"Why don't you ask Lupin or someone like that."

"If I ask Lupin, he'll just tell me that my father was great, no matter if it's true or not."

"I see, and if you ask me and I tell you that your father was some kind of womanizer, you can freely disregard it because I hated your father and I am probably lying to you. But if I tell you that what your uncle said _isn't _true, then I must be telling the truth because I hated your father and I certainly wouldn't lie to you about him just to be nice. Nothing lost, either way."

Harry tried to keep his temper in check. The secret to handling Snape was to keep one's temper in check. "That's right," he said, smiling.

"Well, I didn't exactly make it a habit to know the details of James Potter's sex life, but from all accounts he was sickeningly in love your mother. I doubt that your uncle's claims are true."

"You could have lied to me."

"I could have."

"I probably would have believed you."

"I think that I've had enough of your teenage histrionics. The last thing that I need is for you to cry into your pillow every night because your mummy and daddy didn't love each other enough."

"Still, I know that you and my father weren't exactly friends in school."

Snape seemed to think about this statement for a good long while which surprised Harry because it was just stating something that they both already knew. "You know, I don't think that I even knew what a friend was when I first came to Hogwarts. I was born House Owned – not High Owned like I am now. The Malfoy's House Owned were notoriously cold people. Abraxas Malfoy was very fond of mind games – I think that was what did it. My mother died when I was five years old and I knew nothing but my training to be a good little Owned boy from that time forward."

"What about your father?"

"Ah. I never had one."

"Never had one?"

"Well, biologically speaking, a lot of people told me that it was old Abraxas himself. I wouldn't know. I do look quite a bit like him, though."

"He was your _Owner_? That's—"

"Disgusting? Maybe, but surely you have figured out by now that many Owners have had relationships with their servants. I'm sure that Braedon's obvious flaunting hasn't been lost on you. Both Lucius and his father have bastards running around everywhere in this village. The next time you're out, look for blonde headed children – they're almost always Lucius'. Most Owned children have dark hair."

"But that would mean that you and Lucius are brothers!"

"Lucius takes after his mother in looks," Snape confirmed, "I always thought that one of the reasons he seemed to favor me – besides my being so promising in school – was that he knew that I was his half-brother. Not because he had any ideas about family loyalty, but because he knew that I was half-Malfoy. In Lucius' mind, Malfoy blood makes a person better."

"Do you know where Lucius Malfoy is?"

"I don't. I thought that he may attempt to contact me, but so far, nothing. I hope that he does not suspect that I may be working for the other side."

"Do you think that _anyone_ knows where he is –"

"Shh –" Snape said, motioning for Harry to be quiet. "Listen."

Harry listened and heard what he thought was faint footsteps on the stairs. At first he was worried, but when he looked at Snape, he saw that the man was smiling. _Actually_ smiling.

"Sophia," he said, sternly, "what are you doing out of bed?"

"It's morning, Papa," she answered, "time to look in my stocking."

"It's still dark out, Sophia. Go back to sleep."

"But I went to bed early so Father Christmas could come and now –"

"Oh, _all right_," Snape snapped. "One quick peek and it's back to bed with you."

Harry watched as Sophia took her stocking from the next room and pulled out a rag doll and something that looked rather like a bag of marbles. She squealed in delight.

"She's very lucky," Harry said.

Snape just looked at him.

* * *

Christmas was different than any that Harry had ever known. His Christmases at Hogwarts had been happy, but it had always felt pretty much like any other day – only his friends happened to give him presents. Here, Christmas truly felt like a holiday, though no one was as greedy or gluttonous as the Dursleys had been. It was more like the Christmases that Harry used to occasionally see on television – though the Snapes were, of course, far from the perfect family. One of the first things that he did was help Mrs. Snape and Braedon take food to one of the "Low Owned" families. Harry was genuinely shocked by the family of seven all huddled together in the one room hut, cold and miserable. Harry thought that even the Snapes were put a bit off guard.

"Circumstances within the last year have forced the Malfoys to cut back on spending in certain areas. We must try to do more for families like the Spiels."

There was nothing wrong with her words, but there was anger behind her voice. Braedon looked at her sharply. "Sometimes it's hard for Owners to understand what people need. I'm sure that they don't _want_ hungry servants. And sometimes, when times are hard, everyone has to sacrifice a little."

Cordelia gave her son a dissatisfied look and sighed.

* * *

That night, after finishing his own delicious, but not overly decadent meal, Harry went up to his room early. For once, he was alone in the room. He knew that it would be a good opportunity to cut himself, but he didn't particularly feel like doing so at the moment. Harry always hurt himself less in a family-type atmosphere. Even if that family was Snape's. Still Harry felt almost an _obligation_ to keep up the habit. He took out his book and pulled back his sleeves, looking at the cuts that had almost, but not quite faded. He didn't feel anything in particular when he looked at them. Why were people so against his cutting himself, anyway? It was his body and he wasn't hurting anyone but himself. What did it matter? Harry sighed. Tonight, when he looked at his arms, he felt neither excitement nor repulsion. Harry touched a cut. In a way, it was nice to see them heal.

Harry looked up and saw, with a dreamy sort of horror, that Caydon was standing in the doorway.

"What – what's wrong with your arms?" he said in a shaky voice. Harry could tell that he really didn't know.

"They – um – they – I used to cut them, Caydon. But I don't do it anymore."

Caydon looked so shocked and confused that Harry felt like a monster. "But . . . why?"

"I –" Harry thought about it for a moment, "I don't know. It feels –felt – good, I guess."

"It feels _good_? I don't think that you should do this, Harry." He walked over, ran his fingers across one of the cuts and winced as though in pain. Then, he took one glance at Harry's book and his eyes widened. "I don't think that you should be reading this, either."

"I told you," Harry said irritably, drawing his arm back "I don't do it anymore. And it's none of your business what I read."

"That book has dark magic in it."

"It does not!"

"I know it does! I have to tell Papa about all this stuff."

"Your father already knows."

"Papa knows that you read that book and that you do _that_ to your arms?"

"He knows that I cut myself. He's been helping me to stop."

Caydon turned around. "No! Wait, Caydon. Don't go telling your father everything. Just keep this secret for me. I thought we were friends."

Caydon frowned and walked out the door.


	24. Dark Magic

**Chapter 24: Dark Magic**

Snape slammed the book down on his desk, glaring at Harry furiously. "Do you have any idea what this is!" he yelled.

"It's a book, sir," Harry said, feigning innocence.

"And what kind of book is it?" Snape's voice was sarcastic.

"A spellbook."

"This book contains nothing but Dark Magic. You were the last person I would ever expect to be a closet Dark wizard."

"It doesn't have Dark Magic in it!" Harry objected, immediately.

"Don't you learn _anything_ in Defense class? This book is infamous. It's mass produced and nearly every famous Dark Wizard within the last hundred years got his start reading this it."

"But … but … that can't be. The only kind of spells that are in it are …" Harry trailed off, not wanting to admit what he had used the spells for.

Snape's face grew grim. "The book only shows you the spells that you are ready to see. Ones that you are willing, on some level, to cast."

Harry looked at his shoes.

"If I find that you have been lying to me about your … habits, then I will be even more upset than I am now. And I am _very _upset now."

"Caydon knew what the book was," Harry objected, still unwilling to believe that it was Dark Magic. "Why would Caydon know about it if it were Dark Magic?"

Snape took the comment in the wrong way and his face turned red. "Besides the fact that he's not an _idiot_? It could be that studying that book is a standard – if illegal – part of the school curriculum here." Snape voice dropped to deadly quiet tones. "And don't you ever imply that my children study Dark Magic of their own volition again."

"I wasn't trying to imply that," Harry said, irritably.

"I'm sure. I'm just wondering why you would be reading this book if you have truly quit injuring yourself."

"I just happened to see it in my things and I was glancing through it – I haven't used it in a long time. Really."

Snape looked at him suspiciously. "I know that this is a hard habit to break and I fear that I have not done enough to help you."

"No! You've really _have_ helped me with it, sir." This wasn't a lie. Harry had cut himself a lot less since Snape had found out and he liked to think that he was a lot more careful about it than he used to be. The fear of being caught alone was increased tenfold which made Harry more cautious.

"Again, I will be most upset if I find out that you have lied to me. And of course I have to take this book away."

"But it's mine. I bought it!"

"Bought it where? Knockturn Alley?" Snape shot back, "I can't believe that you – Harry Potter – that you want a book full of Dark Magic. The same book that the Dark Lord undoubtedly learned Dark Magic from as a teenager. This is dangerous stuff that you are dealing with. Do you think yourself too good, too morally upright to succumb to the … seductive draw of the Dark Arts?"

"As a matter a fact, I _do_," Harry said, losing his temper, "_I_ would never become a Dark Wizard."

"You are unbelievable! You've already started on that road! It starts with a few cutting spells and ends with you being the equivalent of a Death Eater. Get out of my sight!"

Snape glared at Harry so intensely that Harry left without another word.

When Harry went up back up to the boys' room, he found Caydon sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for him. Harry didn't say a word to him. He was so angry that he could barely even look at Caydon.

"Don't be angry with me," Caydon said, "I was just trying to help you."

"Help me? By telling all my secrets? I didn't tell your father when you snuck off to Hogsmeade that time."

"That's because you _helped _me sneak off. Besides, this isn't like sneaking to Hogsmeade. This is _serious_."

"It's personal," Harry said stubbornly, "You had no right to tell anyone about it."

"You know, just because I'm small doesn't mean I'm a baby. I know that telling Papa was the right thing to do and you won't manipulate me into thinking otherwise."

"Well as long as you eased your conscience," Harry snapped, furiously, plopping down onto his bed and turning his back to Caydon.

The next morning, Harry and Caydon pointedly ignored one another while they were getting ready for breakfast. Braedon, who seemed a bit more alert than usual, noticed almost at once.

"Don't you feel ridiculous fighting with Caydon?" he asked. "He's just a child."

"Oh, no, he's _very _mature," Harry grumbled, "as he would no doubt tell you if you were to ask him."

Braedon laughed in spite of himself. "I know what you mean."

"_You_ fight with him all the time."

"That's different. He's my brother. Why are you angry with each other, anyway?" he asked, leaning in curiously.

Harry hesitated, but saw no reason why Braedon shouldn't know about the book. It wasn't as though he really even knew Braedon; he would probably never see him after this visit. And somehow, he thought that Braedon would be more understanding than Caydon. "I had this book … your father said that it was like a primer for the Dark Arts. I didn't know that, though. Caydon told your father about it."

"You mean that book that puts in more and more basic Dark spells in, the more it senses that you can cast?"

Harry nodded.

"Is that _all_? Listen, everyone here studies that book. It's in the school! Papa just overreacts when it comes to Dark Magic, but there's nothing wrong with it really – it's all in how you use the spells. The Ministry is just so stuffy and it decides to label certain spells as 'Dark'."

Harry winced. He certainly could identify with the idea of the Ministry being idiots, but he had assumed, practically since he knew about magic, that the Dark Arts were wholly, irredeemably evil. Could he have been wrong?

Braedon went on talking. "If you come with me this afternoon, before I have to go up to the Malfoys, then I'll we can get you one of those books out of the school."

"You're going to _steal_ one?" Harry asked.

Braedon shrugged. "It's not a big deal. It's just one book and Papa took yours away."

"Aren't you afraid we'll be caught?"

"If we are, then whoever finds us will just tell Draco and I'll just tell him that I was pulling some sort of prank. He won't care. And it will only take a moment, anyway."

Harry thought about this for a moment. He didn't like the idea of stealing. He didn't usually break the rules unless it was for a good cause, but he did really want his book back. "Okay," he said, trying to sound offhand.

* * *

"So we're just going to walk into the school in broad daylight?" Harry asked, still a bit nervous.

"It's not as though we're going to murder someone," Braedon groaned, sick of Harry's questions, as they walked in the direction of the school that Caydon had once pointed out to Harry. "No one will pay any attention to us," they had arrived at the small, two-room school and Braedon walked up the steps with an unconcerned air. "It's the day after Christmas – no one will be here." He turned the handle, opened the door and stepped in, followed by Harry. What greeted them inside the schoolhouse was the last thing that Harry expected.

The first thing that hit Harry was the sounds – something that sounded like dozens of horrid creatures screaming at the top of their lungs. Then, Harry saw what they were – a large group of house-elves was gathered near the front of the room and they were opening their mouths in a simultaneous shriek. Then, as Harry watched in amazement as the house-elves began to run around in a sort of frenzied panic, some jumping out the windows and some running about under Harry and Braedon's legs, trying to get out the door. For a moment, Braedon stood slack-jawed, as amazed by this as Harry, but soon, his eyes narrowed and he plucked up a house-elf who seemed rather slow and held it out at arm's length.

"Snooka!" Braedon said sternly, a bit out of breath, "What are all of you doing here?" Harry saw that it was the same house elf who sometimes helped out at the Snape's house.

Snooka shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

"Answer me!" Braedon yelled and he shook Snooka with a bit more force than Harry thought necessary. Harry was about to interfere, when Snooka made a terrified sound and Braedon stopped shaking her.

"We is just having our Boxing Day celebration, Mister Braedon," Snooka muttered.

Braedon frowned. "I don't see any evidence of a celebration, here. You aren't planning some sort of house elf insurrection are you?"

Snooka squealed in terror. "No! No! Mister Braedon must not say such things. We is good house elves. We is not plotting against our masters. House elves has no gifts to give each other on Christmas, but we get together to see each other."

"Why were you being so secretive about it?" Braedon demanded. "Why did you meet in the school and scatter when Bryon and I came in?"

"Mister Braedon knows that Master Lucius doesn't like us to meet in groups larger than five house elves at a time. We thought the school was the one place that the Owned kidsies wouldn't be coming on the Christmas vacation."

"Very smart of you. So you were disobeying your master?" Braedon sounded grim, but Harry was surprised. He always thought that house elfs couldn't disobey their masters.

"No! Master Lucius never _forbid_ us to meet. He just doesn't like it."

"Is this something that I have to tell Master Draco about?"

"No! No! We is good house elves!"

Braedon sighed and sat Snooka down on the ground. "Get out of here, you miserable thing," he said, disdainfully. "And you better hope that I don't tell Draco!" This was said as Snooka was shuffling out the door.

"You didn't need to be so cruel to her," Harry said, glaring at Braedon. "I'm sure that they weren't planning anything – they're _house elves_. They actually like being servants."

"That's a myth, you know."

"What?"

"That house elves are fit for nothing other than slavery. It's no more true than assuming that most Owned were born for slavery. Most are satisfied with their stations – but not all. The Malfoys have always had particularly rebellious house elves. I think that they give one another ideas."

"Or maybe it's because the Malfoys are so nasty to them," Harry retorted.

Braedon frowned. "You shouldn't say such things to me. You must remember that they are my Owners. I try to be a good Owned, even if my parents don't."

Harry shivered at this. He still wasn't comfortable with Braedon's close relationship with Draco and to hear him state his loyalties so blatantly only heightened Harry's fears. He reminded himself not to trust Braedon too much.

"Anyway," Braedon went on, "the Malfoys aren't that harsh to their house elves. A lot of big families kill their house elves once they become too old to be of any use. The Malfoys allow their Owned to use them, which is much kinder."

"And a good way of gaining the loyalty of the Owned, I bet," Harry said.

"I suppose," Braedon went to the back of the room and lifted up a nearly invisible trap door in the floor. "In case there's a Ministry raid," he explained, "they aren't supposed to be teaching us Dark Magic."

He pulled out a book that looked similar to the one that Harry had owned, but it was a little more worn. "Here you are," Braedon said, blowing a bit of dust off the cover and tossing it to Harry.

Harry caught the book and held it in his hand, the old familiar tingle shooting through his fingers. For the first time, it registered with Harry how sinister this tingle was. This was _Dark Magic_. Perhaps Snape was right and it really did mean something. It had never really hit Harry before, how serious it all was; he was practicing Dark Magic. He tossed the book back to Braedon, who caught it in surprise.

"I've decided that I don't want it," Harry said. He could always hurt himself without using the book. It wasn't absolutely necessary, it just sometimes gave him an oddly pleasant feeling; but Harry had decided that it was a feeling that he didn't want.

"After I went to all this trouble to get it for you!"

"Sorry, but I'm afraid it's not for me."


	25. Precocious

**Chapter 25: Precocious**

"So are all – um – Shadows as close to their Owners as Braedon is to Draco?" Harry asked Mrs. Snape after breakfast one day. He knew that this was probably a painful subject for her and he had already asked a similar question of Snape, but it still troubled him. The problem was that he _liked_ Braedon. In many ways, Braedon was much easier to understand than the rest of the Snape family. Harry liked Braedon, but he knew that there was no way that he could ever trust the young man because of his loyalty to Draco and the Malfoy family in general. Harry wasn't used to the sensation of liking people that he knew he couldn't trust.

Mrs. Snape winced and Harry wished that he had never asked the question. "You must think me a horrid mother," she said, sitting down at the kitchen table, "but really – it's not as bad as it seems. Shadows are often favored above all other Owned. I think even Lucius has a soft spot for his old Shadow."

"I didn't mean –" Harry began, distressed at having offended her, but she went on.

"Of course, not _all_ Owners like their Shadows, but it is common and it is the idealized form of the relationship. I suppose it's about the same as with family, though – some Owners love their Shadows, but I've met Owners who really hate their former Shadows. Why, I even remember, when I was a child, there was quite a scandal when a boy named Sirius Black killed his Shadow."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Sirius Black?" he exclaimed in askance.

"Yes," she said, sadly, misunderstanding his surprise, "the same one who killed all those muggles years later. You know, at the time, everyone said it was an accident, and I believed them, but after hearing what he did as an adult – well, I have to wonder."

"How did he – how did he kill him?" Harry choked.

"He pushed him out of a third story window," came a deep voice from the doorway. Harry nearly jumped out of his seat, but it was only Snape.

"Cordelia, if you'd excuse us, I'd like to talk to Bryon alone, please."

She looked from one to the other in surprise. She had been paying little attention to the conversation, but now, she studied Harry intently. "You knew him?" she asked.

Harry didn't know how she could have picked that up, but he nodded numbly. "A bit."

"Cordelia," Snape said again and she got up and left. Snape sat down beside Harry.

"I wish that she hadn't told you that," he said, not looking at Harry.

Harry shrugged as though it didn't matter, though he felt horrible.

"If it makes you feel better, most people at the time really did believe that it was an accident."

"Do you think it was an accident?"

Snape hesitated. "I think that it depends on one's definition of the word 'accident'," he said finally. "I've seen Owners who play very – rough – with their Shadows, hurting them much more than they intend to. Many of them have never been taught to do any differently and they don't realize that they could seriously injure their Shadows. Knowing Black's exuberant personality and his insane family, it sounds like this is very likely what happened. Luckily, we have never had this problem with Draco – Lucius always made sure that he took care of Braedon, in the same way that one would take care of an expensive broom or a pony."

"Are you being _nice_ to me?" Harry asked bitterly. "I know that you think Sirius was a cold-blooded murderer."

"I do think that, sometimes. But sometimes I think that he may have just been reckless and prone to getting into trouble. Of course, that still doesn't change the fact that he was a revolting idiot. After the accident," Snape went on, "your godfather was sent to live with his eccentric old uncle for a year, until the scandal died down. When he first came to Hogwarts he was a most unusual eleven-year-old. He had already developed ideologies that were in direct opposition to those of his family. I always thought that it must have been that event that did it – not many things will convince a pureblood child who has been surrounded by nothing but pureblood dogma all his life that everything he has ever been taught is wrong. Most are more like Draco was when you must have first met him."

Harry thought that this must have been another reason for the animosity between Snape and Sirius. "I'll bet that my father had Owned, as well," he said dully, thinking of it for the first time. If his father was from such a wealthy, old family then of _course_ he would have Owned.

"No," Snape said. Harry looked at him. "Oh, you really should learn more about your family's history!" he grumbled. "Even Owned children, with such humble roots, can recite the accomplishments of their ancestors."

"You'll have to excuse me," Harry said sarcastically, "I've never had any family to teach it to me."

Snape sighed. "About a hundred years ago there was a major movement in the wizarding community to free all the Owned. At the forefront of this movement was John Potter – your great-great grandfather. The Potters were one of the richest families in the wizarding world. They had made a fortune in the broom business. Several people in the freedom movement decided to make an example by freeing all their Owned – your great-great grandfather was one of them."

"He freed his Owned?" Harry asked. Snape nodded. Harry gave a small smile, glad to learn something more, something _good_ about his family.

"Of course there isn't a way to _really_ free Owned. You can free an Owned person's children, but once the person takes the mark of an Owned, there will always be a connection between the Owner and the Owned. Potter certainly tried, though," Harry thought that he could detect just a hint of animosity in Snape's voice, "he let all of his Owned do whatever they liked and he didn't create any new Owned."

"So if there were people doing this a hundred years ago … why aren't all the Owned free?"

"A variety of reasons," Snape said, after thinking about it for a moment. "One was that wizards who freed their Owned, like John Potter often went bankrupt, not being able to compete with businesses and companies that didn't have to pay their employees. Your ancestors were luckier than many – their business was bought out by Nimbus and they retained most of their fortune. Another reason was that the focus of many social rights activist groups shifted to rights for muggleborns – who were both a much more vocal and a slightly larger group. The real death of the movement only came about fifteen years ago, though. Owned were some of the strongest supporters of the Dark Lord. This convinced the few people who were still fighting for them that they weren't really worth bothering with, anyway."

"_Owned_ supported Voldemort?" Harry asked. Somehow, the picture didn't fit. Harry always thought of Voldemort as the oppressor of all people who were weaker or "lower" than himself. "Why?"

"Again, a variety of reasons, the biggest being that most Owners supported the Dark Lord and most Owned think what they are taught to think. Owned are also very pureblooded, in fact, often more pureblooded than the families that Own them. Most of them have never even _seen_ a muggleborn, so the instances of mixing are very rare indeed. The Dark Lord _did_ promise power to purebloods. He wanted to put wizarding society and eventually all society under the power of a few elite families – and Owned would have comprised these families' closest, most trusted servants."

"How the heck do you know all this?"

"I have a basic grasp of Fourth Year level history."

"No, no. How do you know so much about my family?"

"Oh, _that_. Owned education is different from your education in several ways. In history lessons, Owned children are mostly taught about the doings of about twenty or thirty of upper class families. The Potters are one of them."

"But you didn't go to Owned school."

"But I wanted to keep up with what my peers were doing."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling a bit dumb.

"I trust that you're coming to terms with that rather … sudden … revelation about your godfather."

"I suppose so."

"So there will be no need for self harm?"

"No," Harry answered, irritably because he had, at that moment, been wondering if he needed it.

"Have you made up with Caydon?" Snape asked, abruptly.

"How did you know that I was fighting with Caydon?"

"I know all. I suggest that you apologize to him immediately."

"He should apologize to me. I hate tattle-tales."

Snape looked at Harry coldly. "He was concerned about you. He was crying when he told me. _I_ certainly don't think you are worth all that grief."

"He was crying?" Harry asked.

Snape nodded.

"Well … maybe he thought it was the best thing to do. I suppose that I'll say something. I just have trouble understanding him sometimes, he is so …"

"Precocious?"

"Yes. I guess so."

* * *

Harry did speak to Caydon, later that evening.

"I think that maybe you were right about that book after all," he said offhandedly.

"I'm glad that you think so," Caydon replied, a little stiffly. "It's a very bad book."

"I guess that I just wasn't thinking."

"I guess so," Caydon replied and Harry thought that he was still a little angry with him.

"I do respect you, you know. Even though you are younger and so small."

Caydon gave a wistful little sigh. "I wish that I could be tall," he said, sounding very young, "like Papa."

Harry hid a smile. He would hardly call Snape "tall", though he had thought of Snape as tall and imposing when he was younger, come to think of it. Snape was on the short side of average, at best.

"Why do you suppose that I'm so short for my age? It must be nice to be tall like you?" Caydon went on.

Harry thought that Caydon had very misplaced notions of what tall meant. "I'm not tall," he said. "I used to be one of the very shortest in my class, but then I had a growth spurt at the beginning of my fifth year."

"Do you think I'll have a growth spurt?" Caydon asked hopefully.

Harry very much doubted this, considering the heights of Caydon's parents, but he smiled at Caydon a bit. "Maybe," he said.

"Oh, Caydon," Braedon said, entering their room where Harry and Caydon had been talking. "Face it. You're just _short_. Some people just are."

"Draco Malfoy, for example," Harry began, giving Braedon a sidelong look, "is constantly glaring at me because I've grown taller than him. Bitterness is so unattractive." Harry was feeling very smug about having made a point when he realized that he might have just given away a clue to his true identity – something that he, unfortunately, didn't trust Braedon with.

Braedon however, didn't seem to notice. "You said that to purposefully needle me!" he exclaimed.

"Please don't fight," Caydon interjected. Harry had learned that Caydon hated hearing other people's arguments. "Bryon, don't say bad things about Draco. Braedon, you shouldn't be so sarcastic if you don't expect people do be sarcastic back."

"Thank you, _Mother_," Braedon sniffed, but he said no more about it. Harry bristled, but he supposed that if Caydon, who had been so badly abused by Malfoy, could keep from bad-mouthing the Slytherin git, then so could he.

* * *

That night, Harry took out a razor that he had acquired and studied it. He sighed and pushed it under his pillow, getting up to go and see if Snape was downstairs. He figured that he should try to get his mind off of cutting.

Snape was sitting in his usual spot, but before Harry had a chance to say much to him, Sophia came into the room. Harry was not surprised by this; he had figured out that, unlike her brothers, Sophia rarely slept soundly through the night and she often came downstairs, interrupting their conversations. He was surprised, however, to see that the little girl was crying.

She ran to Snape and hugged his waist. He detached her almost immediately. "What's wrong with you, Sophia?" he asked.

"Papa … Papa, I had a bad dream," she cried.

"A bad dream," Snape said very intently, "what was it about?"

"I dreamed that Caydon died," she sniffled, trying to wipe her tears away.

Snape turned very pale and sat up straight looking away from the girl. Harry thought that it was a horrible dream, but he didn't understand why Snape looked _so_ distressed. Then it hit him – Sophia was prescient, a seer.

"We must go talk to your mother," Snape said in a controlled voice. He stood up and took Sophia by the hand. "Stay here Bryon," he said, giving Harry a look of warning. Harry anxiously watched Snape take his daughter upstairs.


	26. Privileged Information

**Chapter 26: Privileged Information**

Harry watched from the doorway as Cordelia Snape looked grimly into her daughter's dark eyes. "Sophie, you must tell me exactly what you dreamed."

"I – I don't want to," Sophia sniffled. She seemed to be alarmed at the reaction of the adults around her and Harry didn't blame her; most children, upon having a bad dream would not meet these kinds of reactions at all.

"This is important!" Snape snapped at his daughter. Sophia whimpered and hugged her mother.

"Shh," Mrs. Snape stood by her bed, comforting her daughter. "Don't cry dear, but you _must _tell me what you dreamed."

"I was walking through a forest," she said, "it was nighttime. I saw Caydon lying on the ground …"

"Are you sure he was dead?" Cordelia asked.

"Yes. He was very white and he wasn't moving. I think there were other dead children around."

"Other dead children!" Snape exclaimed.

"Yes, but I didn't pay much attention to them. I was just crying because Caydon – and then I looked up and saw someone in dark robes – they had their back turned to me. I think that they must have been the one to kill the children."

"What did this person look like?" both Snape and Cordelia asked at once.

"I don't know," Sophia said, crying in remembrance, "they had their back turned to me. I think that it may have been a woman. When she was turning around, I got scared and woke up."

"Do you remember anything else?" Mrs. Snape asked, "Anything at all?"

"No, Mama," Sophia hugged her mother again, seeking comfort, but Mrs. Snape had little to give.

"Did this dream seem different from the dreams that you usually have?" she asked her daughter.

"It was scarier, Mama. It was very scary."

"I mean, did it seem more real? It certainly sounds realistic," the last part was said under her breath.

"I don't know – it seemed real."

"Did it remind you of that time you went into that trance?"

"Kinda. Mama, what does it matter?"

"It doesn't darling," Mrs. Snape patted her daughter on the head, but there was the utmost worry in her eyes.

"You should go back up to your room and try to get some sleep," Snape said and Sophia winced at his words because he sounded very angry and the girl was obviously wondering what she had done to make him so.

"Okay, Papa," she muttered, uneasily, walking out of the room. "Oh, hullo Bryon," she said as she passed Harry in the doorway.

Snape turned around and looked at Harry. "I thought that I told you to stay downstairs," he said, but he didn't sound as angry as Harry had expected, in fact, he seemed a bit absent-minded. He turned back to his wife before Harry could say anything, seeming to forget about Harry.

"Do you think it was a prophetic dream?" he asked his Cordelia.

Cordelia had her head in her hands. "I – I'm afraid that it might be," she said, voice trembling. "There is no way of knowing, of course, but we know that she has had prophetic dreams and visions in the past and – and – I'm scared, Severus."

Snape was pacing across the room. "We'll take him out of Hogwarts," he said finally, with seeming difficulty.

Cordelia shook her head. "If it _was_ a prophetic dream, then there is nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Oh my baby – my poor baby," Mrs. Snape began crying.

Snape paced a bit more and seemed to be thinking very hard. "I don't believe it," he said finally. "I've never believed all this divination nonsense anyway."

"That's how you talked when we were first married," she said worriedly. "I thought that you had learned better since then. I know that you consider yourself a powerful wizard, Severus, but this is _my _area of expertise. You know by now that divination is a true branch of magic."

"I also know that it is a very unreliable one," he snapped. "And I know that Sophia is a just a little girl who had a bad dream. I think we are blowing this thing out of proportion." Snape sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He stopped pacing and looked at Cordelia. "Do you think we should tell him?" he asked his wife.

"I think you should," Harry said and he was surprised by the unsteadiness in his own voice. "If it were me, I would want to know."

"Go to bed, Bryon!" Snape yelled at him. Harry ignored this completely.

"I think that we should tell him for no other reason than to find out if he has had any strange feelings or premonitions about it," Cordelia sighed.

"Wait … so Caydon is a seer also?" Harry asked, confused.

"Not really," Cordelia answered, distracted, "He has hunches and feelings that are often correct and I think that he must have a smattering of the talent, but it was never enough to bother with developing."

Without saying a word, Snape walked to the doorway and closed it right in Harry's face. Not having anything else to do, Harry went up to bed. He didn't sleep, however. He wasn't sure how much of a child's dream he should believe, but every time he looked over at Caydon's bed, he felt like crying. He realized how close he had become to Caydon over the course of the last several months. He wanted to believe that he could watch out for Caydon and prevent the terrible event from happening, but he knew that this wasn't true. If Caydon were prophesied to die, then nothing Harry could do would stop that. Harry felt overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness. Harry made several gashes in his legs that night and he realized that it was always times like these when he hurt himself. He could handle pressure, could handle pain, he could face danger head on like a Gryffindor, he could make sacrifices. He had done all these things in his life before. It was when he could do nothing, when things would never get better, when he was trapped that Harry hurt himself. The feel of his wand tip cutting into his skin served a threefold purpose; it punished him, it gave him feelings of being able to control _something_ and it exhilarated him. Finally, when the first light of dawn had come through the windows, Harry fell asleep.

* * *

Harry awoke well after breakfast and immediately got dressed and went downstairs. He found that no one was in the kitchen, so he decided to go outside, thinking that he needed some fresh air. Harry nearly tripped over Caydon who was sitting on the stoop. Caydon turned his head around to look at Harry and Harry saw from his face that he knew.

Harry sat down beside the boy. "So your parents decided to tell you?"

Caydon nodded and looked away from Harry. They both sat in silence for a few moments. "I wonder what it feels like to die," Caydon said after a bit.

"It won't happen," Harry said, "I won't _let _it happen. All that stuff is nonsense anyway – I took Divination. It never turns out to be true."

Caydon shook his head but gave Harry a small half-smile as though he appreciated the effort.

"Are you going back to Hogwarts?" Harry answered.

"Yes," Caydon whispered, "I should be packing now." Harry started, for in all this trauma, he had completely forgotten that they were going back to the school this evening.

"Are you scared?" Harry asked. He had looked death in the face many times, but somehow, he had always either been too excited to think about it much or had arrogantly assumed that he would live forever.

"Yes," Caydon answered softly, "I think –" But Harry never found out what Caydon thought, for crossing the street and coming towards them was Braedon – which wouldn't have been particularly alarming, but walking next to him was Draco Malfoy.

Harry stood up and dragged Caydon along with him, getting out of the doorway to let the two pass. He bowed his head, as though he thought Malfoy would recognize him and repressed the urge that he nearly always felt to punch the Slytherin in the jaw. He felt Caydon shiver beside of him, remembered how Malfoy had hurt the child several months earlier and he shook with even more rage. Braedon seemed content to walk right past them, but Malfoy stopped.

"Isn't this your brother, Braedon?" he asked politely, though Harry was almost sure that he must know who Caydon was.

"Yes, you've met Caydon, Draco," Braedon said hastily. "Let's go inside."

Draco ignored him and grabbed Harry by the chin, not roughly, but firmly, forcing Harry's face upwards so that they were looking one another in the eye. The sheer shock of it was the only thing that kept Harry from lashing out in a way that would have been disastrous. "And who is this?" he asked, smiling.

"A distant relative of my mother's. He's staying with us for a bit. His name is Bryon Branbaum."

"Branbaum … Branbaum …" Draco mused, "I believe that your mother was one of the Goyle family's Owned, but that is not one of their common names. Who does he belong to?" Despite Malfoy's words, Harry realized that he wasn't really acting suspicious; it was as though he were actually trying to make conversation.

"I – I'm not sure, Draco. I haven't talked to him much."

"Then why doesn't he speak for himself?" Malfoy smiled at him in that odd way again.

"He is Low Owned, Draco. He is not used to being addressed by Owners," Braedon stammered.

"Low Owned?" Draco repeated and this seemed to give him some sort of confidence, "I bet that he's never seen the inside of an Owner's house. Have you?" he asked Harry.

"Uh, no," Harry answered, honestly.

"Perhaps you would like to come and have dinner with us some evening? I could show you some fine things in my house."

Harry's mouth dropped. An idea had just occurred to him. A terrible, nauseating, hilarious idea. This idea was only reinforced by the angry look that Braedon shot him. Malfoy was flirting with him – or soliciting him or whatever it was that Owners did with Owned.

"He's leaving tonight," Braedon said.

Malfoy also caught his tone of voice and angry body language and he grinned at Braedon. "Is that true?" he asked Harry, "are you leaving tonight?"

"Very true," Harry managed, holding back laughter, for now he was more sensitive to the comical aspect of the situation. He couldn't wait to tell Ron.

"That's a shame," Draco sighed and he ruffled Caydon's hair absently, an action which squelched all of Harry's mirth. "Well, come along Braedon." He and Braedon went inside the house.

When Harry went inside, he was told by Sophia who seemed much more cheerful, apparently thinking that her dream was _only _a dream that the two had went straight to Braedon's room. This disturbed Harry and he didn't really want to speculate on what the two could be doing up there, but as Draco immerged about ten minutes later, Harry thought that the must be keeping _those_ types of activities in the Malfoy home. Draco said a few words to Cordelia who was understandingly preoccupied and Harry was stuck by how _polite_ the Slytherin was. Other than a mildly condescending attitude, Malfoy was remarkably well behaved and seemed to be much more at ease than he ever was at Hogwarts. He would have liked to have seen how Draco reacted to Snape, but he didn't get to because Snape, as he noticed for the first time, had been absent all morning. Luckily, Malfoy left before he could notice how closely "Bryon" was observing him.

Harry spent the afternoon packing his things and ruminating on how badly the holiday had ended. As it turned out, things got even worse. The Snape family was beginning their dinner with a rather dejected manner when Harry heard a loud crash. He turned his head and saw, with great surprise, that Snape had dropped his mug and was looking, with horror, in the direction of the stairway. Harry followed Snape's line of sight, but all he saw was Braedon, looking perfectly normal other than the fact that he was dressed in long, black robes instead of his normal blue.

"_WHAT_ ARE YOU WEARING?" Snape yelled, his face had gone white with rage. Everyone at the table jumped. Harry didn't think that he had ever heard Snape sound so livid and he had seen Snape pretty angry. The rest of the family was staring at Braedon in wide-eyed shock. Harry wondered what he was missing.

"Papa," Braedon whispered, sounding very young, "please try to understand …"

Snape rose abruptly from his seat and bounded over to where Braedon was standing. He grabbed his son by the collar of his robe and ripped the fabric, turning Braedon around and looking at his shoulder. Harry saw Braedon's Owned tattoo, nearly identical to the one he had seen on Caydon several months earlier, but with one critical difference. Braedon's tattoo was completely black.

Snape let Braedon go and his face went even paler. "What have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

Braedon turned around and faced his father coldly. "I wanted to tell you. I had the ceremony preformed on Christmas. I'm an adult now and I'll be out of school soon. Draco generously offered me the position of his personal assistant. Just think of that, Father, someday I'll be personal assistant to the head of the Malfoy family."

"You – you –" Snape sputtered incoherently, "You have made yourself HOUSE OWNED!"

Harry gasped as he realized what the rest of the family was so shocked about.

"We – we thought it would make things easier," Braedon said. "I am taking a position that is typically reserved for the House Owned."

"I – you – you spoiled child!" Snape snapped. "Do you have any idea what you have done? Do you have any idea of the thousand little ways that the life of a House Owned differs from your own? I _worked away my youth_ so I could become High Owned and you just give it all up?"

Braedon sighed. "I'm not giving anything up. I'll be the close confidant to the heir of one of the most influential families in the wizarding world. What would I do otherwise? Go and work in the factory?"

"I was going to get you a good job! Now that you are House Owned, you have NOTHING! You'll never be able to take a job outside of the village or to have a house of your own! And when Draco tires of you, what will become of you? You'll be a drudge! Do you have any idea what it is like to be a drudge in the Malfoy household? I would rather that you became Low Owned!"

"You're wrong, Father! Draco is not like Lucius. Everyone says so. He will always be good to me. I don't want you to get me a job, so stop trying to interfere in my life."

Snape laughed, long and bitterly. "Not like Lucius? Don't you know that Draco worships his father? Do you have any idea what Draco did to your little brother? Caydon came to me bruised and bloody one night at Hogwarts … Draco Malfoy was the culprit. I'm so sorry that I am interfering with your career as a _whore_ by trying to get you a respectable position."

Braedon flushed, angry for the first time. Harry realized that that he had expected all the rest, but now Snape had said things that truly surprised him. "You are a liar! I've never seen Draco beat an Owned. And don't you ever call me a whore again! Everyone knows that you and Lucius –" here Braedon cut off abruptly, but Harry's eyes went wide from the shock of imagining how that sentence might have been completed.

Snape didn't seem phased and was actually a bit calmer. "Ask your brother, if you don't believe me," he spat.

Everyone turned and looked at Caydon who seemed daunted by the sudden attention. "It's true," he said finally. "Papa's telling the truth, Braedon. He did hurt me."

"I don't believe it," Braedon said, but his voice held less conviction. "Caydon's your little pet. He'll always agree with you." Snape raised his eyebrows at this. "Besides, even if it is, Caydon must have done something horribly disobedient for Draco to hurt him – probably something that _you_ put him up to with all your plotting."

"That's not true!" Caydon exclaimed and everyone looked at him once again. He seemed sorry to have spoken. "I wasn't being disobedient," he said softly, "or if I was, Draco didn't know of it. Draco – he gave me a difficult task and I wasn't performing it to his satisfaction."

"What task would he give you?"

Caydon hesitated and Harry saw Snape shake his head at him, but the boy continued. "I was supposed to be spying on Harry Potter."

"WHAT!" Harry yelled.

"This is none of your concern, _Bryon_," Snape said sharply, casting Harry a warning glance. Harry crossed his arms and waited in anger to hear what else Caydon would say.

"I – I think that Draco has been planning something this year. Or rather, Lucius has. Papa is convinced that Draco knows where Lucius is. Anyway, Harry has ruined Lucius' plans in the past and I think that Draco wanted me to keep track of what he was up to, see if he suspected anything. I don't know how he would, _I_ don't even know what they're doing, but Draco was convinced that Harry was a threat."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Braedon objected, "isn't Harry Potter in Draco's year? And doesn't he get on poorly with Father? You're hardly the best candidate to spy on him."

"I know. But I suppose that Draco thought I would be the most trustworthy – belonging to his family and all. And I _am_ in the same house as Harry. I guess that Draco thought that would make me able to befriend him. I _did _become friends with him and of course I didn't want to give any information that would help Lucius or the Dark Lord, so I _only_ told him things that didn't matter," here Caydon glanced at Harry imploringly. "Draco knew that the information that I was giving him wasn't important so he beat me. But I didn't tell him anything else and this must have convinced him that I could still be trusted."

Braedon continued to argue with both Snape and Caydon but Harry didn't listen much because his head was spinning. He was incredibly angry with Caydon and felt as though any friendship that they had was a sham … but at the same time he regretted that Caydon had went through torment to protect him.

"May I be excused?" he asked suddenly, "I don't know if I should be present for this."

"We leave shortly," Snape told him absently, "be ready." Caydon was giving him a pleading look, but Harry ignored him and left.


	27. Important

**AN: Yes, I know it has been a very, very long time since I updated. I also know that this is a very short chapter. I must apologize for both. Writer's block is insidious. **

Of course Ron and Hermione wanted to know all about the Owned village. For some reason, Harry felt a bit guilty about telling them. It was as though it was all a horrible and very personal secret. He felt as if he were betraying Snape or Caydon.

"_Why should I even worry about them?" _Harry wondered. _"Caydon was pretending to be my friend this whole time so he could spy on me and since when have I cared about Snape?"_

Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably as Ron and Hermione looked expectantly at him. "It was unbelievable," he said, finally. "I never imagined that a place like that could exist."

"That's what they don't tell you about the magical world," Hermione said in a rather superior tone. "They show you Hogwarts and you think that magic is so wonderful and that you never want to leave the wizarding world and go back to the plain old muggle world again, but they don't show you the dark side like Owning and House-Elf oppression and – and –"

Ron gave an exaggerated yawn and shot Harry a look as if to say "Here she goes again".

Harry didn't return Ron's glance. He was beginning to think that Hermione was _right_. Even about the House-Elves. In fact, he thought that she was very right.

"Hermione, I want to help with SPEW," he announced suddenly.

"You _do_?" Ron asked, slack-jawed.

"I do," Harry replied firmly.

"But Harry, you're already in it," Hermione said, a bit flustered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, but I wasn't really serious about it. You must know that." Hermione gave a small nod of acknowledgement. But I want to be serious about it. I want to put my – my name behind it and everything."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other with raised eyebrows and Harry knew why. He had always hated using his name and prestige to promote things.

"Well, thank you Harry," Hermione said softly.

"I also wanted to find out if there were any organizations for working against Owning – but not right now." Harry added hastily, seeing that Hermione was starting to get a studying gleam in her eyes.

"There has to be _someone_ who is against it," Hermione exclaimed. "It's so horrible! I can look into it, if you like."

This had been just what Harry had been trying to get her to say. "Okay. Thanks, Hermione."

"Tell us more about the Owned village," Ron said, eagerly. "I've never been in one."

"Well … in a way it wasn't as bad as I thought," Harry said, hesitantly. "Snape's family didn't really seem much like slaves as I had expected. They live in a pretty big house and everything. But it was also horrible. Sometimes, I would almost forget that they were Owned – then something would happen to remind me that those people have no freedom – even Snape."

"Did you find out anything about Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "He's really good friends with Snape's oldest son, but I didn't see much of him. Oh, but I did find out that the kid Snape had tutoring me – Darius – is Owned."

This seemed to surprise Hermione, but not Ron who was constantly looking for Owned at Hogwarts since he found out about Snape.

* * *

For several days, Harry and Caydon avoided one another. They hadn't really spoken since Caydon had revealed that he had been watching Harry for Malfoy. It was strange – Harry was concerned about Caydon and wanted to help him, but he also felt betrayed and he didn't know if he could trust Caydon anymore. Oddly, it made him feel awful that Caydon was only pretending to be his friend. He knew he shouldn't care whether or not such a young child was his friend, but with Caydon, it somehow mattered.

After an uneventful week, Snape called Harry into his office.

"Mr. Potter," he said, rather stiffly, when Harry entered. "I have not had a chance to talk to you since the holidays. I trust you have been silent as to your activities over Christmas?"

"Yes," Harry mumbled, looking at his feet.

Snape looked at him very hard. "Have you spoken to Caydon lately?" he asked suddenly.

"No," Harry replied sullenly.

"He told me yesterday that you were still angry with him."

"I never said that!"

"Caydon is not stupid."

Harry shrugged. "What does it matter? I'm not angry with him, but what is the point in trying to be friends like nothing ever happened? I'll never be able to trust him."

Snape clenched his fist as though trying not to lose his temper. Well, Harry thought, at least he was making the effort. "Caydon would not betray you. In fact, he has probably _helped _you. Thanks to him, Draco Malfoy has a very confused picture of your activities."

"I know – I just – how can I ever trust someone who is sworn to serve someone else – my enemy?" Harry knew the implication of his words – that not only could he not trust Caydon, but he couldn't trust Snape himself.

"I see," Snape said, shortly after giving him another long look. "You may leave now, Potter."

"Sir, I'm sorry," Harry tried, lamely, feeling a bit of remorse.

"You're _sorry_? Do you think I care one whit whether you are "friends" with my son?" Snape's voice was now low and lethal. "I don't. In fact, I would rather that you weren't. I merely asked because Caydon seemed to be greatly upset about it. It isn't as though your views surprise me – this type of thing is what has stopped Owned from openly functioning in public for centuries."

"It is _very_ important to me that my friends be people I can trust," Harry said, a bit hotly. "I don't have a normal life! Voldemort is after me – me specifically."

"You are quite arrogant –"

"No, I'm not arrogant. I'm right and you know it. You can give me detention for not agreeing with you or being 'rude', but it _still_ doesn't change anything. I'll talk to Caydon. I'm not angry with him. But I can't trust him."

* * *

Harry didn't talk to Caydon. He wasn't sure what to say. Finally, it was Caydon who talked to him.

"I tried to protect you, Harry," Caydon told him, very abruptly, after a DA meeting one evening. Well, Caydon was often abrupt.

"You are your father's son," Harry said. Caydon frowned as though from an insult, but Harry realized, with a bit of wonder, that he hadn't meant it as an insult – or a compliment. "I'm sorry that Draco hurt you because of me," Harry continued.

This seemed to catch Caydon off guard. "It doesn't matter," he said, shrugging. "You know, just because he told me to spy on you didn't mean that I didn't actually _like_ you once we got to know one another. You were much nicer to me than my brother usually is, for example. Certainly, much nicer than Draco."

Harry shrugged, embarrassed.

"You know I am really sorry –"

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Caydon!" Harry said, still embarrassed. "I get it. I'm not angry with you."

"Good," Caydon said, smiling in relief.

"So what have you been doing since the holidays?" Harry asked.

"Mostly worrying," he snorted. "Sophia's been having bad dreams about me again."

"She has?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Yes. But I think they're just dreams. She's such a little girl."

Harry looked at Caydon closely and saw that the boy was biting his lip. Harry wasn't convinced.

"Snape shouldn't have let you come back to Hogwarts," Harry said, a bit angrily. "It's too dangerous here."

"And then you wouldn't have had to deal with me, right Harry?" Caydon asked, with sarcasm. Sometimes Caydon really did remind him of Snape.

"I didn't mean it like that," Harry said rolling his eyes. "I do know how you feel. I've never wanted to be sent home because of danger either, actually."

Caydon crossed his arms. "I really, really want to be able to graduate Hogwarts, Harry. It's important to me. Not very many Owned people get to go here. I think I should make the best of it."

Harry had never thought of school in this way. He had always loved Hogwarts because it wasn't the Dursleys and because it was the first place where he had ever felt welcomed or valued. The actual schoolwork, however, or the importance of graduating had always been far from Harry's mind. Caydon was a bit of a bookworm, though.

"Papa knows what a good opportunity it is for me. I think that's why he let me come back here. Besides, I'd probably be in just as much danger, if not more, at the Malfoys."

Harry still wasn't convinced, but he let this slide.


	28. The Power of Words

**Chapter 28: The Power of Words**

Nothing very exciting happened over the next few weeks. In fact, compared to the months that had proceeded, the time was positively boring. Harry went to his classes, he ran DA meetings, sometimes he talked to Snape or Caydon and of course Ron and Hermione. There were no more disappearances and things at Hogwarts seemed so unexciting that Harry was inclined to think that the year was going to end on a dull note for once. About a month after the Christmas break, Harry was called to Snape's office.

He could tell right away that Snape was angry – furious. Harry had seen Snape furious enough times to be familiar with the expression. His lips went thin and he looked as though he were gritting his teeth, his face took on a different color – not red, exactly, but a livid paleness that was different from his normal skin tone. Moreover, Harry thought that Snape was angry with _him_ which made him sigh slightly.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said, his voice calmer than his expression, "how have your Potions lessons been going?"

This threw Harry off guard. "With … um …"

"With Darius, yes."

"Fine, I guess … what is this about?"

"And you saw Mr. Doorn while you were staying at our home, correct?"

"Um … yes?" Harry was still clueless and did not want to say anything that could possibly incriminate him to Snape.

"And did you happen to _tell_ anyone that Darius was Owned – or that my family was Owned."

"No."

"_No?!_" Snape suddenly yelled, making Harry jump a bit. He obviously did not believe it.

"It is no use trying to get me to confess to something without knowing it – I have no idea what you are talking about, sir," Harry said, guessing that this was what Snape was trying to get him to do.

Snape clutched the wood of his desktop and let out a frustrated sigh. "A boy from your House and Year was heard taunting Darius in the hallway this morning. Taunting him about being Owned."

"And this boy would be?"

"Seamus Finnigan."

"I never told Seamus!"

"But you did tell somebody, didn't you Mr. Potter?" Snape accused, jumping up and beginning to pace the floor. "At first, I thought that Caydon must have let the secret slip again, but he told me he did not and he is no good at lying. I know that Darius wouldn't behave so foolishly. But then I realized, of course, that it must be _you_."

"I didn't tell any --- Ron!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. "I told Ron and Hermione." His heart fell. Harry had forgotten all about telling Ron and Hermione and somehow it had never even occurred to him that one of them would reveal the Snapes' secrets after keeping it so long. "Ron must have told Seamus. Sir, I am so sorry -- "

"Sorry? You couldn't be sorry enough. It's out all over school now. The Malfoys are sending Darius home."

"But he didn't do anything!"

"You still don't understand the concept of slavery, do you?" Harry was very surprised to hear Snape call it slavery, as everyone had always been very careful to tell him that Owning was _not _actually slavery in the past. "He doesn't _have _to have done anything. He was only here to begin at the Malfoys extreme pleasure. Now, he has lost much of his use to them. They will blame him for being uncovered, even if he had nothing to do with it. And if word gets out that I am Owned it could be even worse – the Malfoys will start wondering where all this information is coming from."

"I – I only told Ron and Hermione. I _did_ take this seriously, but I tell them everything."

"_Everything_?" Snape asked.

"Yes. They are my best friends," Harry said stoutly.

"Have you told them about your little _problem_," Snape asked, his eyes straying to Harry's arms.

"The – the cutting -- " Harry stuttered faintly. "No, I don't believe that I have."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "My advice to you is not to go blabbing other people's secrets to your friends, if you are not even willing to trust them with your own."

"Sir, I -- "

"Potter, Darius Doorn was one of my most promising pupils in years. And still he had to work so hard just for the opportunity to go to Hogwarts – he didn't have the privilege just handed to him like you or Draco Malfoy. Like you have everything handed to you."

"You know that my life isn't really like that," Harry said, a bit shakily.

"I think that it most certainly is. Oh, I know that your childhood may not have been ideal," he said impatiently, forestalling Harry's objections, "but in the wizarding world, _no one_ gets more special consideration than Harry Potter."

"Not always. Anyway, I don't want it. Not any of it. All I want is to be like everyone else."

Snape looked away from him, as if really effected. "That is all Darius wanted. It's all that any Owned child wants."

This made Harry feel quite miserable.

"You know that even if I could have ever trusted you, I can't now, Potter," Snape said and he actually seemed to regret it. "How do I know that you won't reveal my position or Caydon's? You've already told two of your friends who obviously are not reliable themselves – who else might you tell?"

Harry wanted to object. Wanted to tell Snape that he could be trusted, but he knew that it was no use. In a way, Snape was even right – telling his friends his own secrets was one thing, revealing the secrets of others was quite another. And this was an important secret.

* * *

Harry found Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor Common Room. They were kissing on a large chair. Harry stood in front of them for a long moment before Hermione noticed him and pulled away from Ron.

"_Harry_," she exclaimed, scandalized, jumping up.

Harry ignored her. "You told people about the Darius Doorn being Owned," he said to Ron.

"What?" Ron asked, confused. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did," Harry insisted. "Who else would have told Seamus Finnigan, of all people?"

"Not me!" Ron said, angrily. "This is nice – you just jump to conclusions because a few rumors are going around Hogwarts!" His face was turning red.

"You -- "

"Harry!" Hermione said, suddenly. "Stop yelling at Ron." She took a deep breath. "I'm afraid that I told – about Darius."

"_You_." Harry had been so sure that it had been Ron. As much as he liked Ron, it had seemed like something that his best friend would do.

"I'm sorry!" Hermione said miserably. "I knew that I never should have told Lavender."

"You told _Lavender_?! Harry burst out. "She's the biggest gossip in the school, Hermione! How could you be so … so … well, stupid."

Hermione turned red and bowed her head. Ron seemed to be a bit angry. "Leave her alone, Harry. You don't know the full story. That Darius is a right git."

Harry couldn't imagine what would justify telling Lavender this incredible secret, but he asked anyway. "Why? What did he do?"

"He --" Ron began, but Hermione cut him off.

"It's not important, Harry," she said, looking away from him.

"No, I think you should tell me," Harry said, his voice a bit more gentle than the one he had previously been using because he sensed that Hermione was upset.

"I agree," Ron told her.

"Fine," Hermione sighed. "Maybe you are actually right, for once," she gave Ron a slightly teasing smile, that quickly faded from her face. "I always find this sort of thing hard to talk about," she said, shaking her head. "He called me a mudblood, Harry. I was upset and when I went back to our dorm and Lavender was the only one there. She noticed that I was upset and she asked why and I let it slip about Darius. I'm sorry. She must have told Seamus – maybe some other people as well. But I didn't tell about Snape, Harry."

"I – he really said that?" Harry had never heard Darius say anything against muggles before. Then again, maybe the Slytherin was smart enough to hide those types of views from Harry.

"Now, that I think of it, he might not have really meant it as badly as some do. I mean, he meant it as an insult, I think … but maybe not as big an insult as it actually _is_. It was very strange, the way he said it. We were just talking and he snapped at me and then said _that_. I was not expecting it at all."

"He deserves to be kicked out of the school," Ron said, stubbornly. "Anyone who uses words like that does."

"But it's not really fair, Ron," Hermione pointed out. "Malfoy or some other Slytherin wouldn't have been kicked out of school. The only reason that he has to leave is because I revealed that he is Owned."

"I'm going to go talk to Darius," Harry said.

"What?" Ron asked. "You can't. He's in Slytherin. When will you even see him?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know. It would probably look suspicious if I went and saw him in Slytherin – I don't want anyone making any sort of connection between me and Snape."

"Maybe you can find him after dinner," Ron half-heartedly suggested.

"Maybe," Harry said, doubtfully. "I guess that I could hide outside the Slytherin dungeons under my invisibility cloak and wait for him to come out. I'd like to see if there is anything I can do, even if he is a git, but I won't if Hermione doesn't want me to."

Hermione sighed. "It's fine with me, if he's willing to accept your help. I do feel a little responsible, but I don't think that there is anything you can _do_ Harry. If the Malfoys want to pull one of their Owned out of school, then they have every right to do so."

Ron shook his head. "I can't believe that the two of you are actually trying to _help_ him."

* * *

The next day, Harry did manage to find Darius, sitting alone in a quiet hallway. He plopped down beside the younger boy, who ignored him, his nose buried in a book.

"I heard that you have to leave," Harry said, matter of fact.

Darius turned a page and sniffed. "What do you care, Potter?" he said, after a moment.

"I just think that Owning is horrible and I want to help you if I can." Harry knew that this must seem very sudden and strange to Darius.

"I do not want your pity," Darius said, putting his book down. "Besides, there is nothing that I can do."

"Are you sure? I have a bit of influence politically, though it changes so often that I can barely keep up with who hates me at any given moment. I don't think that the Malfoy influence is what it used to be. Maybe we can get Dumbledore or someone to put some pressure on Draco."

"You think I haven't already thought of that? You are pretty dense." Darius spat. Harry immediately recognized this as a halfhearted attempt to get him to leave by insulting him. He also realized that Snape must have already talked to Dumbledore about all of this. "Wait a minute," Darius said a moment later. "I know what this is all about. Your rivalry with Draco Malfoy. Well, forget it Potter. I'm not about to make my Owner any angrier with me for _your _benefit."

"I don't care about making Malfoy angry," Harry sighed. That was at least partly true. "I'd rather just ignore him, when he lets me."

Darius looked skeptical at this. "I've already told you that there is nothing you can do, anyway. Listen, Professor Snape told me that I can complete my year at the Malfoy's Owned school and maybe next year he can convince Draco to let me back into Hogwarts."

"Do you think that will work?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I don't know. Possibly not. Draco listens to Severus, though, even if he tries to lord over him sometimes. There are advantages to having one of your Owned complete such a good school as Hogwarts even if he is known to be Owned, and I'm over halfway through already."

"Oh. Do you actually _like_ Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked, remembering how adamantly Braedon had defended him.

Darius shrugged. "Not particularly, but he is not the worst of Owners. He certainly seems to be a good deal better than Lucius was," this was said with a slight shudder.

"Why did you call my friend Hermione a bad name?" Harry asked, suddenly.

"You mean a mudblood?" Darius asked. Harry winced at the word and nodded. "I didn't really mean to – everyone uses that word where I come from. I knew it was insulting, of course, but I didn't really mean to say it. We were just arguing about a point in _Hogwarts, A History_ and it slipped out. I even _apologized_ to her, but I think she thought I was being sarcastic."

Harry nodded. He couldn't condone Darius using such a slur against Hermione, but he could understand it. He had heard the term "mudblood" used more than one time during his stay with the Snapes, though not from Snape's family. He could believe that Darius did not mean anything in particular by it. This made him feel even worse about Darius being forced to leave Hogwarts.

"Why?" Darius asked, sitting up straight and looking at Harry intently. "Did you hear that she was the one who revealed my Owned status? I don't know how she would find out, but -- "

"She didn't," Harry said, hastily interrupting. "I was just wondering."

"Oh," Darius said, deflating. He seemed to believe Harry. "I just can't imagine who it could be. Maybe it was Snape's little boy. He seems to have a big mouth."

"So you are just going to leave?" Harry asked, changing the topic quickly. "You are not going to try anything to stay at Hogwarts?"

"I think my best hope is to just wait and hope that my Owner changes his mind."

Harry realized that for someone who was Owned, that this must always be practically the only hope.


	29. Finding Enemies

**Chapter 29: Finding Enemies**

Harry was sitting on the windowsill in his dormitory, absently starring at the Hogwarts grounds far below. He knew that he should not just sit and do nothing because these were the times that his mind went to cutting, but at the moment his mind was on nothing in particular. He was a bit bored. Harry leaned against the sill, closing his eyes and sighing. After a moment, he looked back out the window and sat up very straight, surprised by what he saw.

It was Darius, standing on the lawn, just outside the castle steps. He looked the same as always, but carried a small bag at his side. After a moment he was joined by several of the Professors – Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and strangely, Adele. Harry supposed that Darius must be departing today. Perhaps he had to leave the Hogwarts grounds to get wherever he was going. Dumbledore was saying something to Darius that Harry wished he could hear, but he knew that the windows did not open. Darius talked with Dumbledore for so long that Harry considered leaving, bored with not being able to hear what was going on. After a long while, however, Harry noticed that the stance of professors was changing – they looked much more uptight. Harry soon saw why. Draco Malfoy had joined the group.

Draco seemed rather nervous as he spoke to Darius, probably because Dumbledore was watching him intently. McGonagall had her arms crossed and Harry could swear that she was glaring at Malfoy. Snape's face was more impassive than ever and Adele looked bored. As for Darius himself, he seemed the most nervous of all, which was unusual for the normally calm Slytherin. He bit down on his lip as Draco spoke to him and nodded his head. Then, he turned and simply walked away from the castle. Harry wondered what he must be feeling at the moment. He had never asked about Darius' family. Did he have a loving mother and father, brothers or sisters back at the Malfoys'?

Harry sat looking out the window long after the others had come back into the castle. What he was looking for, he could not say. Eventually, he got up with a sigh. He looked around his dormitory and saw that he was still alone. That was unusual – he would have expected at least one of his roommates to be back by this time in the evening. He finally got up and left. Harry found Caydon crouched in a corner by the fireplace in the Common Room. Caydon, like many younger children, liked to find small corners in which he could easily fit. The boy wasn't reading or studying, which is what he seemed to do most times, but he was watching the Common Room. When he saw Harry, he turned his face away. Harry sighed – it was just as he had thought. He hadn't spoken to Caydon, but Harry had expected that Snape's son would be nearly as angry as Snape himself was about Darius.

"Caydon?" Harry said, softly, looking for a comfortable place to sit. There wasn't one near the younger Gryffindor, so Harry sat down on the floor across from him, crossing his legs.

Caydon attempted to ignore him, his lip stuck out sullenly.

"I don't blame you for being angry with me," Harry said, patiently. "I shouldn't have told Ron and Hermione about Darius or about your family. I usually tell them everything, but it wasn't my secret. Please don't stay angry with me Caydon," Harry suddenly felt as if he were talking with a very young child, indeed.

Caydon looked at him out of the corner of his eye as if he wasn't worth a full glance. "I trusted you Harry. I don't know why – I always _thought _that I was a good judge of character. I made Papa trust you too. I made my _whole family _trust you."

"You can trust me," Harry insisted. "I only made one lapse! It was foolish, but I won't make the same mistake again."

"One lapse? So, you only told Ron and Hermione our secret once and did not divulge anything further? I will not believe that, Harry. Darius' life could be ruined because of this."

"I know," Harry said miserably. "I'll do anything I can to help him. I spoke to him earlier, but he didn't seem to want my help. Is there anything that you can think of, that I could do?"

Caydon thought for a moment. "There is nothing," he said finally and then went on. "I think this is a crushing blow for Darius. He cares about going to Hogwarts much more than I do, though he is trying to put on a brave face. He is very ambitious, although he is only House Owned."

Harry suddenly realized that this is the same position that Snape must have been in when he was at Hogwarts. Snape had been House Owned and probably ambitious; he was a Slytherin, after all. Perhaps this was one of the reasons that Snape had been so angry. Being found out would have been Snape's biggest fear while he was at Hogwarts, Harry was sure.

Caydon shook his head in frustration. "I thought I could trust you, Harry," he said, wringing his hands and sounding very disappointed. "I told Papa that you wouldn't tell anyone, but you _did_."

Harry sighed and tried to think of what more he could say. What he could say that would make Caydon forgive him – and Snape forgive him too. Nothing came to him, but he still opened his mouth to say more. That was when a Gryffindor – a second or third year from the looks of it – burst into the Common Room in a fluster.

"Did you hear?" the boy cried, looking around, flustered. Harry noticed that there were unusually few people in the Common Room for this time in the evening. Just a couple of girls talking off at the other in of the room and he and Caydon. The boy seemed to be addressing his comments mostly to Harry, though everyone looked at him. "There have been more disappearances! The whole school is in an uproar. Dumbledore wants everyone to assemble in the Great Hall."

"There have?" Harry asked, anxiously. "Was it -- " but the boy had left, apparently to go tell the boys in the dorms.

Harry turned to Caydon in a hurry. "Go to the Great Hall quickly," he said.

"Aren't you coming?" Caydon asked.

"In a minute," Harry replied. "I just have to get something first."

Harry ran back up to his dorm and sifted through his belongings speedily. He took out the Marauders' Map and stuffed it into a pocket. He thought that he could use it later to get a sense of what was going on. He then ran down to the Great Hall.

Hogwarts truly was in an uproar. Harry had never seen anything quite like it. Everywhere, people were crying, panicking, joining together in fear and grief. Harry saw a few of his Professors, but they seemed at a loss for what to do.

"Harry! Harry!" Someone was screaming his name over the all the noise. Harry turned around to see Hermione weaving through the crowd toward him waving her arms. Ron was trailing at her heels.

"What happened?" Harry asked. "How did it happen? When?"

"They think that there are over thirty people missing," Hermione said, in dismay.

"Thirty?" Harry asked, in shock. There had never been anywhere near that number taken in the previous disappearances.

"Maybe they'll all show up," Ron said, hopefully. "Like the other times."

"I don't think so," Harry said. Whoever had done this, whether it was Voldemort or someone else, this was _it_. This had to be the culmination of their plans.

"I'm scared," Hermione admitted, looking from Harry to Ron. Ron looked scared as well and Harry had to wonder if he looked the same.

"Hermione!" A girl was calling to Hermione, tearfully and Hermione went over to comfort her. Apparently the girl's best friend was one of those missing. Ron shrugged at Harry and walked over to join his girlfriend.

Seeing that his friends were occupied, Harry edged in the other direction, finding a place that was as much away from everyone else as he could. When he thought that no one was watching, he took out the Maurders' Map. Perhaps he could gain some sort of clue as to what was going on, see if there was anyone suspicious in the school.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he muttered as he attempted to figure out how he could look at the map without anyone seeing him. Finally, he gave up and had to merely turn towards a wall, hoping that no one was paying any attention to him. He opened the map, scanning it carefully. He had never seen it look so empty. Everyone was in the Great Hall, save for a few stragglers who were heading that way. No one was in all the other rooms. Harry continued to look over the map, not seeing much. Other than a few of the professors, everyone had moved to the Great Hall. Then, Harry's eyes were drawn to the first floor corridors. There was a dot moving slowly among them. Harry gasped when he read the name. It was Lucius Malfoy.

Harry folded the map up hastily. The Great Hall was still a den of noise and mayhem, though Harry glimpsed Flitwick nearby, trying to get the attention of the students. Harry slipped out the door and ran down the hallway as silently as he could manage. He came close to the place where he had seen Lucius Malfoy, slowing down and trying not to make one sound.

"_He's not here,_"Harry thought, looking around carefully, "_he must be just around the corner._"

Harry crept slowly and quietly around the corner, moving more quickly as he rounded it. His hand moved to his wand, but Lucius was nowhere to be found. "_He must have moved further down, by now,_" Harry thought in frustration, taking out the map. He opened it up and found that Lucius should be in a classroom a few steps down and to the right of him. Wishing that he had remembered his invisibility cloak, Harry stepped up to the window and looked in. The space, which was a classroom, was darkened as it was evening, but Harry could see that there was no one in the front part of the room. He opened the door and stepped inside, holding his wand in front of him.

The room was completely empty.

Harry cursed in frustration. He walked around the room twice, but still saw nothing. He took out the map. If he was reading it correctly, he should be standing practically on top of Malfoy. Harry looked all around him, but there was nothing alive, not even a fly. He even checked the bottoms of his shoes. He scratched his head in puzzlement as he watched Lucius move toward the wall … and then _through _the wall. Harry gasped. What could this mean?

Then it hit him. Lucius wasn't _in _Hogwarts, he was _under_ Hogwarts. He was under the floors. Harry knew from his second year that there were various corridors underneath the school, but other than a few "secret passages" none of them were marked on the Maruaders' Map. The corridors may not show up on the map, but apparently the people in them did. Harry needed to get under the school as well, and of course he knew the way.

Harry made sure that there were no professors in the area and then folded up his map and put it in a pocket. He headed for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. When he reached the room, Harry sighed in relief when he saw that Moaning Myrtle was nowhere in the general vicinity. He approached the sink that he knew served as an entrance to the chamber, hoping that Dumbledore hadn't decided to seal it up. Harry took his wand out and pointed it at the sink, saying the correct words in Parseltongue. He smiled in triumph as he watched the sink open up, just as it had his second year. He put his wand away and was about to enter the tunnel when he felt something tug at his robes, at about the level of his waist.

Harry turned around. "Caydon!" he exclaimed, for the boy was standing behind him, tugging on his robe. He must have seen what Harry was doing. "What do you want?"

"I'm coming with you."

"Coming with me?" Harry asked, alarmed. "What do you mean? Coming with me where?"

Caydon crossed his arms. "Whoever did this – they've taken my friend Lydia. I know you must be going after them – that's why you left. I want to come with you. To help."

Harry sighed. "You guessed correctly," he admitted. "But you can't come with me, Caydon. It is far too dangerous and you are too young."

"You're not exactly an adult either, you know," Caydon said, undaunted.

"Yes, but I have experience dealing with this sort of thing. You are only a first year!"

"You fought the Dark Lord when you were only a first year," Caydon pointed out. That was true enough, though first year had seemed so much older when he was one.

"That doesn't mean that you should. Listen, Caydon, you _can't _go. The person behind all this … it's Lucius Malfoy. I have this map, you see." Harry took out the Maruaders' Map and explained to Caydon how it worked. He then showed the boy Lucius' name on the map, now moving towards the edge of the page.

Caydon had gone very pale, but he shook his head stubbornly. Harry realized that for him, Lucius was a more frightening opponent than Voldemort. He had never seen Voldemort, but he _had _met Lucius and he knew what it could mean if Lucius suspected that he was a false servant. "I don't care," Caydon said, his voice shaking a bit. "He has my friend and you might need my help."

"I doubt that," Harry said, smiling a bit. "But I do need you to go tell your father or Dumbledore what I found out. I should have told them earlier, but there is no time now."

Caydon ignored this and stamped his little foot, angrily. "I am going with you!"

"No, you _aren't_."

"If you don't let me go, I'll just follow you," Caydon insisted. Harry couldn't believe how insolent he was being.

"I can't risk you getting hurt," Harry said, frowning. "I'm taking you back to the Great Hall and giving you to one of the professors."

"Then they won't let _you_ go either," Caydon pointed out and Harry realized that he was right. "Besides," he said in a more quiet tone of voice, "Lucius is about to move off the map. It will be hard to find him by the time all the adults figure out what they want to do."

Harry groaned in frustration. Caydon was absolutely right on both counts. If they didn't act quickly, they may never catch Lucius Malfoy or help all the missing people.

"Fine, you can come if you must," he told Caydon, reluctantly. "But stay close to me."

Caydon nodded and Harry saw that he knew how serious this was; there was no childlike excitement or triumph in his eyes. Harry sighed. He would feel much better if he were going on his own.


	30. Lucius Malfoy

**Chapter 30: Lucius Malfoy**

Caydon arrived in tunnel a few moments after Harry. The boy shivered as he looked around. "Would you like to hold my hand?" Harry asked. He didn't want Caydon to inadvertently fall behind.

Caydon nodded and took Harry's left hand in his own. They walked down the tunnel for a few steps before deciding to go off into one of the side passages that Harry deemed was running in approximately the right direction. The tunnels were deathly silent and their footsteps and the very sound of their breath echoed off the walls. Harry was sure that Lucius Malfoy would hear them coming from a mile off. Even the light of his wand on the walls looked eerie.

They walked through the tunnels for a long time, taking occasional turns and periodically consulting the Maruaders Map. Somehow, Harry had never quite realized that there were so many tunnels or that they were so long. Eventually, the inevitable happened. He took out the map and Lucius was gone.

"He's moved off the map," Harry told Caydon.

Caydon nodded at him, his face looking pale by the wand light. "We have to just keep moving in this direction, then," he said. "And we have to _listen_. We may be able to hear him even if he isn't in the same tunnel as us." Harry nodded and they continued on their way.

After it seemed they had been walking forever, Harry stopped in frustration. "How long can these tunnels possibly go on in this direction?" he complained, letting go of Caydon's hand to look around. It was pointless; in both directions there was nothing to be seen but more and more tunnel. "Surely we've reached the edge of Hogwarts grounds by now." He took out the map and saw that both he and Caydon were nowhere to be seen on it.

"These tunnels must go under the Forbidden Forest," Caydon said, quietly. "I think that's where we've been for some time now." He pointed upward and Harry saw that there were thick tree roots sprawled on the ceiling above them, dispersing to either side before disappearing behind the stone walls.

"I wonder if Lucius is still heading this way," Harry said.

"I don't see any reason why he wouldn't be," Caydon answered him. "The only question is whether he's in another tunnel and we've already passed him."

Harry didn't know what to say to this. He turned and they continued on.

They soon came to a fork in the path and, as he had other times, Harry had to choose a path. He couldn't help but feel that each turn took him further and further from Lucius Malfoy. He turned to the left and Caydon started to follow him, but seemed to change his mind.

"Wait," the boy said. Harry looked at Caydon to see that his head was tilted to one side and his eyes were closed, as if thinking very hard. "Let's go this way," he said, pointing to the right. "I just have a feeling."

Harry shrugged. He saw no reason not to turn to the right. One direction was as good as another. After they walked through the tunnel for a few minutes, Harry thought he saw something up ahead. Upon looking closer, he saw that it was light; not straight ahead, but reflecting off of a wall where the path took a sharp turn, as if the source came from around the corner.

Harry turned to Caydon. "Stay here," he said. "I'll go see what's up ahead."

Caydon crossed his arms and looked at Harry doubtfully.

"If you hear any trouble, you can come and try to help me," Harry suggested, hoping that Caydon would do nothing of the kind. Thinking, Caydon nodded and bit his lip.

"_Nox_," Harry whispered, putting out the light of his wand. He crept forward, trying to be as silent as possible. He flattened himself against the wall drawing closer to the corner. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, then whipped around the corner as quickly as he could, wand brandished. What he saw made him gasp.

The tunnel ran on for about another twenty feet straight ahead where it opened into what appeared to be a rather large room. In the room, Harry could see rows of bodies lying neatly upon tables. They did not seem injured and Harry did not _think _that they were dead, though he could not tell for certain. Standing at the far end of the room was a figure in a black robe with long, blond hair. Harry was sure that it must be Lucius Malfoy.

Keeping his wand firmly in hand, Harry moved forward. Lucius did not hear him; he was bent over, apparently casting some sort of spell on one of the bodies. Harry got close enough to get a clear shot at him, ready to cast a petrifying spell, but the figure moved as if sensing something, then turned around.

Harry stopped cold. The person who was looking straight at him, was not Lucius Malfoy, but Adele.

"Potter!" she exclaimed in surprise, using a very different voice than any he had ever heard from her.

"Adele," Harry said, in confusion. "But I thought – the Map said that Lucius --"

Adele laughed derisively at this and something about her sneer, although not terribly like herself, seemed familiar to Harry. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, could she be a Malfoy that he had never met before? An aunt or a cousin or some other distant relative?

"You're so gullible, Potter," she sneered. "But no more than the rest of those fools, I suppose. I --"

"Lucius!" Harry blurted, all at once, for it had come to him suddenly. "I mean, you _are _Lucius."

How could he not have seen it earlier? All of Adele's ridiculous, overblown female traits could only have been thought up by someone who wasn't genuinely female. Who would ever suspect that Lucius Malfoy would make such a fool of himself as Adele had routinely done? Who would ever suspect that she was to be taken seriously at all? Lucius must have used some variant of Polyjuice – Harry groaned. No, that wasn't it. Lucius didn't _have _to use Polyjuice to fool Hogwarts, he realized. All he had to do was change his gender. The image of Braedon with his girl's body floated before Harry's mind. He had looked different enough so that Harry hadn't immediately recognized him, but the same also. The same way that Lucius looked different but the same. The Malfoys specialized in these types of potions, Braedon had said. Lucius would easily know how to make one, or at least how to get one.

"Finally figured it out, Potter?" Lucius said, using Adele's sickeningly vapid voice and twirling his hair. "Really, I knew it would be easy to sneak in here and use Dumbledore's own students against him, but I didn't know it would be _this_ easy. One would think that Dumbledore would a much better job at checking into new teacher backgrounds, especially considering some of his former bungles, but I guess that some people just never learn."

"Maybe it's you who never learns," Harry said, defiantly, feeling suddenly protective of Dumbledore. "Hasn't your time in prison taught you anything?" Harry spoke with an arrogance that he did not feel, but he wanted to find out what Lucius intended to do with these students and needed to keep him talking.

Lucius smirked. "Yes," he said. "I learned that it does not pay to fail the Dark Lord," at this, Lucius' face lost its arrogant smirk and Harry wondered in what way Voldemort had shown his displeasure with Lucius. "This is how I'll prove my loyalty once and for all, Potter. By giving Hogwarts to my Lord."

"You'll never get away with this," Harry said. "Are you using _Imperius _on them? Unless you've got a lot of help, you'll never be able to control so many at once."

"You are, as usual, quite wrong. It's a modified form of _Imperius_. I may not have as direct control at all times, but it is even harder to shake off than a traditional _Imperius_."

Harry thought he could remember having read about something like this at one time, but he couldn't remember the details.

"And I have to admit, Potter, that I'm glad that you could join me. Kidnapping you would not have been very – cautious. Dumbledore probably has eyes on you day and night." Harry wondered if this was true. On the one hand it made him feel like he was being spied on, but on the other hand it would show that someone did at least care about what happened to him. But of course people couldn't be watching him _all_ the time or he wouldn't be able to sneak off so often. "Now, you've given me an extra soldier," Lucius went on, "you."

At this Lucius pointed his wand directly at Harry and a beam of blue light shot in his direction. Harry, however, had been expecting this and was able to deflect it. He ducked behind one of the tables and Lucius hurled another spell at Harry who managed to dunk in time. Harry tried throwing a few spells at the Death Eater, but none of them seemed to work. He then put up a defensive shield that he had learned that deflected a couple of Lucius' spells, but Harry knew it wouldn't be good for long.

Harry looked around and suddenly froze. Caydon was sneaking around the other side of the room, having apparently entered unnoticed by either Harry or Lucius. Harry cursed to himself as he watched Caydon flit from table to table. The boy wasn't particularly graceful and if Lucius happened to look to his left for long enough, he would be sure to notice him. Why couldn't Caydon have just have remained in the castle where it was safe? Harry didn't dare throw any spells at Lucius for fear that it would cause him to turn and see Caydon. He kept his wand pointed at Lucius, deflecting his spells, all the while watching Caydon out of the corner of his eye. The boy had managed to get behind Lucius and had raised his wand, about to cast a spell. Harry held his breath. He was sure that Lucius would be able to block any spell that Caydon might throw at him under normal circumstances, but if he were caught in the back, unawares, then Caydon might just be able to knock him out.

"_Expelliarmus_!" yelled a voice – one that was not Caydon's. Caydon cried out as his wand flew from his hand. Harry looked over and saw that Darius Doorn was standing to his right, his wand pointed at Caydon, apparently having entered through a different tunnel. Lucius whipped around to look at Caydon. Harry quickly raised his wand, hoping to catch Lucius in the back with a spell, but Darius turned his own wand on Harry. "Don't do it, Potter," he said, and Harry heard that his voice was shaking.

Caydon, to Harry's dismay, was no longer in a defensive position, but was standing with his head bowed, shivering. Harry wasn't even sure if Owned could use a spell to hurt their Owners, though Caydon must have had _something _in mind when he snuck up behind Lucius. Lucius grabbed Caydon bodily and turned around to face Harry, his wand pressed against Caydon's temple.

"One of your little rats, Potter?" Lucius asked and Harry realized, with some shock, that he did not even recognize his Owned. He pressed his wand harder against Caydon's head, making the boy wince. "Shall I use the death spell on him? Or perhaps … _Cruc --_"

"Stop!" Darius cried out suddenly, before Harry could react. Lucius looked at him sharply and Darius lowered his head. "I mean – I only mean, sir – there is no need," Darius was trembling and Harry suddenly realized that he did not really want to be doing any of this. Lucius must have made threats or promises to get him here. "He's one of yours," Darius said, quietly. Harry drew in his breath sharply.

Lucius looked at Darius, raising his feminine eyebrows in disbelief. "One of my Owned, you mean?" he asked, sounding more curious than anything else. He ripped Caydon's robe open at the neck, looking at his shoulder. "High Owned too," he said as he looked at Caydon's tattoo. Caydon looked up, straight at Harry, but his eyes didn't hold an incredible amount of fear and he didn't seem to be imploring Harry to save him. He only wanted Lucius to be stopped.

Lucius grabbed Caydon's hair and turned the boy's head back so that he could get a better look at him. He begin to laugh, his female vocal cords making the sound high pitched. "Snape," he said. "I might have known. This is one of Snape's brats."

Harry's heart fell. If Lucius managed to get away, then Snape's cover was blown. He could very well torment Snape's whole family. Lucius took his wand and pressed it carefully against Caydon's tattoo. Caydon fell to the ground shrieking and clutching his shoulder.

"Stop it!" Harry yelled. "He's just a little boy! It's not his fault, I made him come with me." Harry did not really expect Malfoy to believe this, but he was desperate.

Harry looked over to see that Darius was observing the whole situation nervously. "You don't have to do what he says, Darius," he called out, suddenly. If he could get the Slytherin on his side, then maybe they could get Caydon away from Lucius. "I know you feel close to Professor Snape," he says. "You probably know Caydon pretty well, don't you?"

"You know nothing, Potter," Darius said, obviously trying to sound defiant. "I cannot disobey my Owner. Besides, if I am a good servant, I will be rewarded." Suddenly, Harry realized what Lucius must have told him. He told him that if he helped, he would be able to return to Hogwarts.

Caydon had now stopped screaming, but his body was convulsing on the ground and his eyes were rolled back in his head. Darius was looking at Caydon too.

"He's lying," Harry said, looking back and forth between Darius and Lucius who was watching Caydon with cold eyes. "Help me and we can fix everything. Professor Dumbledore will figure out some way for you to come back to Hogwarts next year once he knows where you loyalties lie." He pointed to Caydon. "You can see how Lucius Malfoy treats his servants," he said, quietly.

Darius had gone very pale and was breathing heavy. "I can see how my Owner treats disloyal, disobedient servants. _Stupefy_." He said the spell quietly.

"_Protego_," Harry said, quickly and Darius was caught with the spell that slammed him hard into the wall.

Lucius left off torturing Caydon who lay limply on the floor. "I've suspected for some time that Snape was not loyal to me," he said, conversationally. "He always seemed to _almost _give me the information, the help that I needed. That's why I didn't let him in on this particular plan of mine."

"My father is loyal," Caydon gasped, desperately. "It is only me. I've never been like him. I was sorted into Gryffindor --"

"Silence, slave," Lucius said, contemptuously, twisting his wand again which caused Caydon to gasp in pain.

Furious, Harry flung another spell at him that Lucius deflected. Lucius flung a spell back at him, but it hit the table in front of Harry. The wood shattered and the student lying on the table was dumped onto the floor. The splintered wood flew into Harry's skin, adding more cuts to the ones that were already hidden beneath his clothes. Harry winced in pain.

Lucius began to move toward him, but Caydon stumbled to his feet and abruptly bit Lucius on the hand causing him to scream and drop his wand. Caydon quickly kicked the wand across the room.

Lucius' face had turned white with fury. "I've had enough of you, slave," he said in a low voice. He touched the tips of his fingers against Caydon's forehead. Without a sound, Caydon fell stiffly onto the ground.

"Caydon!" Harry cried out. "Caydon!" but the boy lay still, not showing any sign of life.

Lucius ran across the room as Harry flung spells at him. He stopped at one of the students, seeming to search for a wand. Harry almost caught him with a spell, but Lucius moved out of the way, just in time. Still wandless, Lucius made for the part of the room where his own wand lay. There were no students there, Harry realized. Almost in a daze, Harry pointed his wand at the ceiling, chanting a powerful spell. There was an explosion and large chunks of rock and dirt fell onto Lucius' head, burying him. Dust filled the room and for a moment, Harry stood, coughing and trying to keep the dust out of his eyes.

As soon as the dust settled, Harry ran to where Caydon was lying. "Caydon," he whispered, kneeling down and taking the boy in his arms. Caydon was so pale and it took Harry a moment to realize that he was breathing, his chest softly moving up and down. Harry's eyes filled with tears. "Caydon, please wake up," he said. What had Lucius done to him? Around him, the other students were awakening, but Harry barely noticed. "Caydon," he said louder, shaking the child a bit. "Please wake up."

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**AN: Hey guys, pretty big chapter. I'm not sure if I'm any good at writing action, so I would love to know what you think. **


	31. Caydon's Courage

**AN: Thanks so much for all the great reviews, guys, I always appreciate them. I have a new Snape-centric oneshot up called "The Redhead". It takes place during HBP, but was written after reading DH.**

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Harry's heart was pounding so loud that he almost couldn't hear the confused voices of the students all around him. He kept shaking Caydon and saying his name, but the boy was not responding. Someone screamed that Adele was dead and Harry looked up absently. This must be why the students were now awake. Normally, killing the wizard would not break the spell, but Harry knew that the spell Lucius had cast had required a high level of personal control. Harry looked over at the rubble, but was unable to see Lucius' form. He quickly turned back to Caydon and was soon joined by a small, blonde haired girl.

"Is that – _Caydon_?" she asked and Harry recognized her as Lydia, Caydon's friend who he had been so eager to rescue. "Is he dead?" her eyes filled with tears.

Harry shook his head vehemently. "He is not dead," he said, hearing the weariness in his own voice. "We just need to get him back up to the castle – to Madam Pomfrey."

Lydia looked around in confusion, as if just realizing that she was not in Hogwarts. "Where are we?" she asked. "What happened?"

"There's no time," Harry told her, looking at Caydon. "We have to hurry."

"We don't know how bad he's hurt," another student said. "We should probably send someone back to Hogwarts to fetch a teacher."

"It is spell damage, not a wound," Lydia said. "Right Harry?" she asked. Harry nodded.

"We'll have to carry him back to Hogwarts," he said. "I'll lead, since I'm the only one who knows the way. At least, I think I know the way back."

One of the older students – but not one in Harry's year – picked up Caydon. Harry began to lead them back to Hogwarts. In his haste to make it back to the castle in time, he made one or two wrong turns, but he always found his way back on track fairly quickly. When the group finally found their way back to Hogwarts, they immediately headed for the Great Hall. On their way, however, Harry ran straight into Professor McGonagall.

"Potter," she said, alarmed. "You should be inside. We are about the evacuate the school." She gave him a look, taking in his dirty, bloody appearance and his most likely frantic expression. Then she looked over as if seeing the other students for the first time. She gasped when she saw Caydon. "What – where have you been?"

"These are the missing students," Harry said. "There is no need to evacuate the school. Caydon has something wrong with him – some sort of spell that Lucius Malfoy put on him."

"Lucius Malfoy?" McGonagall said faintly.

"He was the one behind the disappearances," Harry said, quickly. "Adele was him … or he was Adele. But he's dead now. And … um, Darius Doorn is still down there, knocked out."

McGonagall looked as though she didn't understand half of this, but never the less she pulled herself together and said; "I want all uninjured students to go to the Great Hall immediately. And I'll need one of you to inform Professor Dumbledore – quietly. If you are injured, then please come with me to the infirmary."

Several of the students did have minor injuries and soon they were in the infirmary, having their hurts attended to. After looking at Caydon, however, Pomfrey frowned. "This is a very serious spell," she said. "And one that I am not entirely familiar with. He'll have to go to St. Mungo's."

"I'm going with him," Harry said, loudly, but Pomfrey turned on him quickly.

"No you are not Mr. Potter," she said, ushering him to one of the beds. "You have blood all over you and I have to attend --"

"It's nothing serious," Harry insisted. "Some splinters. I look worse than I am."

"Nothing serious!" Pomfrey snapped, making Harry jump. "I'm not going to let it be said that I didn't properly attend to an obviously injured student. Now _sit down_," she finished, for Harry had stood again.

In the end, Harry was completely unable to convince anyone that he should go with Caydon. Dumbledore, when he came, looked sadly at Caydon, but seemed to think it better that Harry remain where he was. Caydon was taken to St. Mungo's. Harry still hadn't seen Snape which he was partially glad for – he was resigned to the idea that Snape was going to hate him forever now. He should have stopped Caydon from coming with him. He should have been able to protect the boy. Harry remembered Caydon's pale face and felt like crying. What if they couldn't do anything for him in St. Mungo's? What if he died or just never woke up?

"Take off your shirt, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey told him, briskly. Harry began to do so, but just as he was about to lift his shirt over his head, he remembered the wounds that he had inflicted on himself and he pulled it hastily back down.

"Can't you just give me some sort of healing potion or cast some sort of spell?" he asked.

"I won't know what _sort _of spell to use until I see how serious your injuries are. If you are shy of the other students then you can get behind the curtain."

"It isn't that …"

"Then get a move on."

Not having any other choice and feeling too tired and defeated to argue, Harry stepped behind the curtain and removed his shirt. Pomfrey began to clean the dried blood off his arms with a wet cloth. At first, she did not seem to notice anything amiss, but after a moment Harry heard the sharp intake of breath and he saw the woman bite her lip.

"Well," she breathed. Harry didn't look at her. "You realize that I will have to tell Professor Dumbledore about this?"

"I've stopped doing it," he mumbled. "I mean," he said at her stern look, "mostly stopped."

She shook her head sadly. "I'll still have to tell him. And we should get you psychological counseling," she said the last bit in a whisper.

"I'm not insane," Harry insisted and suddenly realized how ridiculous this sounded. He injured himself – on purpose. He had just gone to take on a madman all on his own – it sounded pretty insane.

Pomfrey raised her eyebrows, but said nothing as she began to treat his injuries. Harry didn't say much to her as he was being treated. After it was over, he asked if he could go, but she told him that he needed to spend the night in the infirmary. Harry thought this was more from a desire to keep an eye on him than because of his injuries. Harry didn't argue with her, but lay on the bed looking up at the ceiling, ignoring everything going on around him.

After a long while, Harry heard a voice say his name. He looked over and saw Professor Dumbledore seated beside of him, none of the usual twinkle in his eye. Harry sat up. "Professor," he said, "what is it? Have you heard anything about Caydon?"

"Caydon Snape has been taken to St. Mungo's," Dumbledore said. "His condition is … uncertain."

Harry bowed his head. "It's all my fault."

Dumbledore continued to look at him, almost unblinkingly. "I know that would have tried to protect him, Harry, but I have to ask – why did you take him with you in the first place?"

"I don't know," Harry said, miserably. "He begged me to and he said that he wouldn't let me go unless he could go with me. I thought – I guess I didn't think."

"Harry," Dumbledore said, more gently, "I know that you would not have wanted anything to happen to Caydon."

"May I visit him?" Harry asked. "Please sir?"

"I don't see why not, Harry," Dumbledore said in kind voice, but his eyes were still troubled.

"Is – is Snape with him?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Dumbledore told him.

"I --" Harry considered telling Dumbledore that he had changed his mind, that he did not wish to see Caydon, that he could not face Snape. But that would be cowardly. Snape deserved better and he wanted to see Caydon at any rate.

* * *

When Harry arrived at Caydon's room the next day, he almost changed his mind about wanting to see him. Caydon looked no different from when Harry had last seen him – pale and lifeless though Harry could _just_ tell that there was life in him. Snape was sitting in a chair near his son and looked even worse than usual with dark circles under his eyes and exceptionally unkempt hair. Harry stood in the doorway waiting for Snape to say something to him, but Snape just looked at Caydon with his dark, intense eyes. 

Harry eventually walked over and sat down in a chair across from Snape. Snape continued to ignore him, but it was almost as though he wasn't doing it on purpose, as though all he could see, all he could think of was Caydon. Though of course Snape, who was always so alert, must know that Harry was there.

"Is he getting better?" Harry asked Snape, quietly.

Snape shook his head.

"He's getting worse?"

"No," Snape rasped. "He's the same. He will always be the same until his Owner decides otherwise."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Lucius used a spell on Caydon that only his Owner can remove."

"But Lucius is dead," Harry said. "What--"

"Ownership transfers to Draco, his heir," Snape snapped, some of his old impatience creeping into his voice for the first time. "Ordinarily, I think Draco would spare him – he's not so cold-blooded as his father. But those students that you rescued will not remain silent for long. I'll bet that Draco already knows that Caydon helped you kill Lucius."

"You mean that you think Draco will _kill_ him?" Harry asked, jaw dropping.

"Him … and me. Maybe even my whole family. I'm sure that he suspects that I betrayed Lucius. It would be justice in the eyes of the Ministry – Lucius was Caydon's Owner. And Draco adored Lucius."

"Malfoy won't hurt Caydon … or you. I won't let him," Harry said.

Snape gave a wry, crooked smile. "Much as I'm comforted, having the protection of the almighty Potter, I do not believe that there is much you can do. There is certainly nothing _I _can do. I'm twice the wizard as Draco Malfoy and twice his age, but Owners have special powers over their Owned. There's no hiding, no stopping him, if he wants to kill me."

Harry said nothing, but clinched his fist. He _would _make sure that Malfoy didn't hurt these people.

"Why did Caydon go with you?" Snape asked after a moment.

Harry shook his head, distractedly, returning to the moment. "His friend was taken. He insisted on going." Harry was sure that Snape was now going to blow up and blame the whole event on him.

Snape, however, closed his eyes. "So courageous," he said. "He's such a Gryffindor."

Harry said nothing, but sat with Caydon awhile longer. He really couldn't see any change. Caydon was pale and his chest barely moved as he breathed. After about an hour, Harry told Snape that he was going to leave. Snape nodded, not even looking at him.

When Harry stepped outside, he found a young man sitting in a chair near the door. He had to give him a second look, before he realized it was Braedon.

"Have you been in to see him yet?" Harry asked, sitting down beside the other boy.

Braedon started, as though surprised at being addressed.

"N – no," he said. "I don't know if I can." In contrast to Snape who had spoken in monotone, Braedon's voice broke as he spoke. He quickly cleared his throat, however, and gave Harry another look. "You're Harry Potter," he said, incredulously.

"Um … yeah," Harry said, realizing that Braedon had no clue that they had ever met before.

"What are you doing here?"

"I sort of, um, know …" Harry looked distractedly at the other end of the room where the door was opening, "I, uh, know Caydon," he finished quietly, but by then Braedon was no longer listening to him for Draco Malfoy had just walked in and he didn't look too happy.

"Draco," Braedon said, nervously, jumping up. He approached Malfoy and took his hand. "Please forgive Caydon, Draco," he begged. "He's just … he's just a little boy. I'm sure that he didn't know what he was doing …"

For a moment, Harry thought that the other boy would acquiesce, but then he caught a look at Draco's face – the grief and hatred that was etched there. Malfoy jerked his hand back and used it to slap Braedon across the face. Braedon made no move to defend himself. Malfoy then lunged at the other boy hitting him several times before Harry could tear them apart. "Stop it!" Harry yelled. Braedon was crying and to Harry surprise, so was Malfoy. Harry could feel Malfoy's body shaking with sobs as he tried to hold him off of Braedon.

"You traitor!" Malfoy yelled at Braedon trying to shake off Harry's grip. "I trusted you and all this time your father has been working to destroy my family! You couldn't have told me? My father is _dead _and I – I --" he seemed to take full account of Harry's presence for the first time and shrugged him off violently. "_Harry Potter_! I find you sitting here talking to Harry Potter!?"

"I've never seen him before in my life, Draco," Braedon said. He was shaking harder than Draco. "He just started talking to me. I wanted to tell you about – about my father and his loyalties, but I was afraid of what might happen to him."

Draco shook his head, looking miserable. "How can I ever trust you again?" he spat at Braedon. "I should have listened to my father all those times he told me that your kind cannot be trusted and must be governed by fear." Harry edged closer to Malfoy in case he tried to attack Braedon again, but he merely gave both of them one last scathing look and headed for Caydon's room.


	32. Transference

**AN: Hey, everyone. Believe it or not, there is just this and the epilogue, which I will post as soon as I'm done posting this chapter, left! I want to thank everyone who reviewed. There were times when I thought that I would never finish this fic, but all the great reviews are what kept me going. I don't _think_ that I'll write a sequel to this, but I should keep writing in the fandom. Right now there is a companion piece to this fic up called _Owned _ which is about Caydon's brother Braedon and I would really like some reviews for it. It has lots of the canon characters in it, though it is from Braedon's POV. **

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* * *

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Chapter 32: Transference 

Harry stood, stunned, looking at the door that Draco had just disappeared into. After a moment, he realized that he should go after the Slytherin – Draco might try to hurt Caydon or Snape. He grabbed for the door handle and pushed, but the door wouldn't open. He pushed and kicked it and then took out his wand and tried _Alohomora_. He cried out, frustrated. Harry then felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Dumbledore.

"Is Mr. Malfoy in there, Harry?" he asked, calmly.

"Yes," Harry said, feeling relief. Dumbledore would make sure that Draco didn't hurt anyone – he was _Dumbledore _after all. Harry fleetingly realized that he no longer resented Dumbledore as he had at the beginning of the year. "I must go see what I can do then," Dumbledore said heavily. He touched the door and muttered a spell then turned the knob. "You stay here," he told Harry.

"I won't," Harry said. "I should protect --"

"I fear that your presence would do more harm than good," Dumbledore said, forestalling his objections. "I need to talk to the young man, not throw spells at him. You and Draco Malfoy have never got along very well."

Harry wanted to object, but he could see the sense in the argument. Maybe Dumbledore could get Malfoy to agree not to hurt the Snapes, but Harry's presence would only complicate things. Reluctantly, Harry nodded and allowed Dumbledore to enter the room alone.

He sat down outside the door and attempted to comfort Braedon who was still quite distraught.

* * *

The next morning Harry told Ron and Hermione everything.

"So what's going to happen to Snape?" Hermione asked, after he was done.

Harry sighed. "I don't know," he said. "Draco didn't hurt him or Caydon last night – I sat outside the door until they came out of Caydon's sickroom. No one would tell me much, though."

"I would have just punched the git," Ron muttered. "Malfoy, I mean, not Snape."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry nodded. "I wanted to," he admitted. "But that wouldn't have helped Caydon much, would it?"

"I guess not," Ron said.

"So that's it?" Hermione demanded. "You don't know anything more? You've told us everything?"

"I always tell you everything," Harry said, knowing it wasn't true. "Except … except for one thing." Harry had already made the decision that he would tell them, but it was still hard. He could be making a huge mistake. Hermione would likely never leave him alone after this. "I know that neither of you would purposefully do anything to hurt me. And I know that I may need your help to get through my problems." It felt strange to say, like some nonsense that Hermione would have droned on about.

"We're here for you Harry," Hermione said, encouraging him to continue.

"I want to show you something," Harry said, his eyes moving from one friend to another. They nodded and Harry slowly drew back his shirtsleeve, revealing his arm. His cuts were very faint as Pomfrey had healed them, but many were still visible. Harry wondered if they would even notice, but he could tell from Hermione's gasp that she, at least, saw the scars. He looked up to see Hermione looking sad and Ron looking confused.

"Oh, Harry …" Hermione said, gently.

"Did you -- did you do that to _yourself_?" Ron asked, unsure.

"Yeah, I did," it was hard to say out loud. "Some of them anyway, some of them are from injuries that I got when I was fighting Lucius. I've been doing it since last summer. I guess I'm a pretty bad case, though not so bad as I was earlier this year."

"The scars are almost healed," Hermione said.

"Pomfrey healed them," Harry admitted.

"So she knows?" Hermione asked, relieved.

"Yeah, now," Harry said. "Snape too – he's been helping me out."

"Why would you do that?" Ron burst out.

_You wouldn't understand_, Harry wanted to say. He resisted the urge. "It's complicated," he said, instead. "I was depressed after Sirius died and I always hate staying with the Dursleys. Hurting myself gave me a feeling of being in control, I guess." Harry knew that this sounded lame.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione asked, gently.

"I knew that you'd try to get me to stop," Harry said. "I always wanted to stop – but I guess that I wasn't fully committed. I always wanted to know that I could go back to it, if I wanted to. But something Snape said to me – he said that I was willing to trust you two with other people's secrets, but not my own. I guess that was true. But no longer."

"We'll be there for you, Harry," Hermione said.

"For sure, mate," Ron added.

* * *

Later, Harry found himself in Dumbledore's office, facing Draco Malfoy as they sat before Professor Dumbledore.

"You didn't harm Snape or Caydon, did you?" Harry asked.

Draco sneered at him. "No, I am not such an idiot as that, Potter," he answered. "Though goodness knows that they deserve only death for how they betrayed my father, my family."

"That is quite enough, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, quietly.

"Why would you let them live then?" Harry asked Malfoy.

Draco gestured at Dumbledore flippantly. "The old man convinced me." Harry frowned at this, but Draco went on. "My father was a noble man," Harry gave a short humorless laugh at this. Lucius Malfoy was anything but noble. Draco glared at him. "I say, my father was a noble man, but he was fighting for a losing cause. The Death Eaters are little more than a terrorist organization. I've seen it for a while now."

Harry scratched his head. He didn't see what this had to do with Snape. Then it hit him. "You're joining our side," he said, looking between Dumbledore and Malfoy.

"We believe that Draco could have much to contribute, Harry," Dumbledore said. "He was quite aware of the actions of certain pureblood families – particularly the youths."

Harry fumed. "And when he decides that Voldemort might win this war after all? He'll change sides so quick it will make all our heads spin. I suppose he told you that he wouldn't harm Caydon and Professor Snape? You can hardly trust --"

"Why would I want to keep Snape or his worthless brat around?" Draco interrupted. The emotional boy of last night was gone and in his place sat a young man who was cool and collected. _Slytherin_, Harry thought. "They're traitors and murderers. I would kill them, but Professor Dumbledore seems to think he may have some use for them – I don't know what, as Snape's cover as a spy is blown."

"Ownership can never be dissolved, Harry," Dumbledore said, "but sometimes it can be transferred. It is a rather complicated procedure which is preformed most often when a woman brings Owned of her own house to her marriage. Oh, and there is a modified version for when a child takes a Pet. Draco has kindly agreed to transfer Ownership of Severus and Caydon to myself."

"I – I -- " Harry saw it all now. Dumbledore didn't really care about having Draco on their side, at least not for information. What could he know that Snape didn't know already? He had done this to save Snape and Caydon. And perhaps with an eye to saving Draco from himself. Dumbledore was like that. "That's great, sir," he said.

"I am concerned, however, about what may happen to them after I die. I have no children who the bond would pass to automatically, you see. I was hoping that you would be my heir in this, Harry."

Harry gasped. Him an Owner? And Snape's Owner? "What would happen if I refused?" he asked.

"Then I would find someone else," Dumbledore said.

"And if you couldn't find anyone else?"

"Then Ownership would transfer back to Draco or his heir," Dumbledore told him. Draco Malfoy smirked at Harry.

"You were my first choice in this, Harry," Dumbledore went on. "I trust you and I can see how well you have befriended Caydon and even Professor Snape this year."

Harry thought for a moment. "Did Madam Pomfrey talk to you?" he asked, suddenly. She had told Harry that she would tell Dumbledore about his cutting.

"She did," Dumbledore looked at Harry steadily.

"And you still – you still trust me to --"

"I always trust you to do the right thing, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry was pleased but he tried not to show it. "I'll do it," he said. "As long as Snape agrees."

"I have already spoken with Severus on this matter, Harry," Dumbledore paused.

"Oh. What about the others?" he asked.

"What others?"

"Snape's family," Harry reminded him. "He has a wife and a daughter and another son --"

"Would you like me to sign all my servants over to you, Potter?" Malfoy interrupted, sarcastically. "Perhaps the Manor too?"

"You get to keep them so you can hurt them --"

"Why yes, I plan on beating them three times a day as I do all my servants," Malfoy said, lightly. "Then I'm going to go step on some puppies."

"I wouldn't put it past you."

"Oh, come off it, Potter. The woman is one of the most accurate seers in the world. The girl will be too if my sources are correct. They are worth more than all the rest put together. As for Braedon, I have a … sentimental … attachment to him."

"I just watched you hit him last night!" Harry exclaimed.

Draco shrugged. "I was upset. And with good reason. Perhaps I shouldn't have struck him, but Braedon wouldn't leave me if you asked him to." He sounded so confident and Harry had to admit that maybe he was right. Braedon had always seemed so protective of Draco when Harry had visited.

"Caydon will be upset," Harry said to Dumbledore. "Will he be allowed to visit his family?"

Dumbledore looked at Draco. "Absolutely not!" Malfoy said loudly. "I don't need anymore traitors. Those two are the dangerous ones – too smart for their own good and too aware of the outside world. If I can separate them, then the rest may not prove to be treacherous."

"Treacherous?" Harry asked, hotly. "But where's the problem? I thought you were on our side now."

"A slave shouldn't betray his master no matter his political loyalties."

"Political loyalties? Is that what you call it?"

Dumbledore tapped his hand on the table. "That's enough, both of you. We've come to an agreement. We can figure out the details later."

"But --" Harry began, but Dumbledore interrupted.

"Caydon has already been informed of what we are doing, Harry. He is upset, but he agreed to it."

"Caydon's awake?" Harry asked. "Why didn't you say so earlier? Can I go see him?"

"Yes, he's been moved to the Hogwarts infirmary again. I think we are done here."

Harry practically jumped out of his seat and left as quickly as possible.

* * *

Caydon looked worse than Harry had expected. He had thought that removing the spell would make Caydon good as new, but this was apparently not the case. The boy was pale, with dark circles under his eyes and though he smiled to see Harry, his voice sounded weak when he spoke and he could barely sit up. "Hello, Harry," he said, softly.

"Caydon," Harry said, looking down at the boy. "How are you doing?"

"The healers say that I should make a full recovery."

Harry sat down beside of Caydon's bedside. "That's good. You should have seen how worried your father was."

As if on cue, Snape entered the room. When he saw Harry, he froze up. There was none of his usual sneer or his commanding presence, but neither did he seem as empty and strange as he had when he thought Caydon would die.

"Hello, sir," Harry said, nodding at Snape.

Snape came over and sat down, wordlessly, his back stiff and straight.

Harry spoke again. "I – Dumbledore told me that you agreed to his Owning arrangement, but it doesn't have to be me that's his heir. I know you hate me --"

"I don't hate you," Snape said quietly.

"Well, I know that it will be hard for you, me being your Owner and all. I mean, I'm younger than you and your _student_."

Snape shrugged. "One insipid sixteen-year-old is as good as another, I suppose. You live long enough and you're are bound to be Owned by someone that young enough to be your grandson, they say. Hopefully, you will have matured a bit by the time that you actually Own me." Harry could tell that Snape was a bit upset by all this, no matter what he may say.

"I'm glad that Dumbledore chose you, Harry," Caydon put in. "You'll be way better than the Malfoys."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I just wish that you didn't have to be Owned at all. I kind of wish that _no one _had to be Owned. But I guess that there is nothing I can do."

"There is," Caydon objected, his dark eyes fixed on Harry. "I've heard you say so much about how awful Owning is – you can tell other people. People will listen to you – you are Harry Potter. Maybe after a while, things will be better for us – the Owned, I mean."

Snape frowned at this, but said nothing. "Yeah," Harry said, half-heartedly. "I'll do it." It was just so frustrating, having to fix all these problems a little bit at a time. He was used to rushing in and saving the day.

"There will be a magical ceremony," Snape said, changing the subject. "For the transference of Ownership to Professor Dumbledore. Hopefully, rather soon. Draco Malfoy isn't as stable as I'd like."

"Do I need to be there?" Harry asked.

"No," Snape said. "Nor do I want you to be. You have a part in the spell, but you can do that with Professor Dumbledore later."

"I see," Harry said carefully.

* * *

The ceremony turned out to be easier than Harry had thought. Dumbledore just needed a drop of his blood and his signature on a piece of parchment with strange runes written on it. "Why didn't Snape want me at the real ceremony?" Harry asked Dumbledore when it was over.

"That? Well, you see Harry, transference ceremonies can be relatively … painful for the Owned involved."

"Painful?" Harry asked, alarmed. "What about Caydon? He's so weak. Are you sure he's okay?"

Dumbledore looked Harry up and down and then he smiled broadly. "I think that Caydon is going to be just fine now, Harry," he said, patting Harry on the shoulder.


	33. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"You guys, I'll be fine!" Harry said to Ron and Hermione for the thousandth time that day as they stood, ready to board the Hogwarts train.

"You said that you get depressed when you have to stay at the Dursleys," Ron pointed out, stubbornly.

"You can't blame us for being worried, Harry," Hermione added, concern wrinkling her brow.

"I know, I know," Harry said, looking at his feet. "But I am going to see the muggle psychiatrist like you wanted." Uncle Vernon had agreed to let him after a visit from Dumbledore in which the professor assured Vernon that he would not have to pay for this care. Harry was sure that Vernon was thrilled to learn that Harry needed therapy, but disappointed that he was getting help.

"Don't forget to go to the group meetings either," Hermione nagged. "They say it helps to talk to other people."

"I won't," Harry assured her, smiling a bit. Going back to the Dursleys was never good, but somehow Harry felt that he could face it this summer.

"Harry!" a voice called his name through the crowd.

Harry looked to the side. "_Caydon?" _he exclaimed. Caydon was still weak and spent most of his time in bed. Harry was surprised to see him out of doors. Caydon gave him a big smile. The boy's face was thinner and whiter than it had been before the sickness, but he was beginning to look better.

"I had to show you something," Caydon said and Harry saw that he was a paper something in his hand. It was an issue of the _Daily Prophet_. "Look!" He opened the paper and Harry looked at the article. There had been various articles about Lucius death at Hogwarts and Harry's involvement, so Harry expected it to be one of those. When he saw the title "Harry Potter Speaks out Against Owning" he smiled.

"I hadn't expected it to come out this soon," he said.

"It's great, Harry!" Caydon said. Impulsively, he hugged Harry around the waist.

"Caydon," a voice said sharply. Harry turned and saw Snape glaring at his son.

"Hi, Papa," Caydon said brightly, completely ignoring Snape's stern look.

"You should not be out of bed," Snape told his son. "You do not want to make yourself sick."

"I know, Papa," said Caydon "I just had to show Harry the paper."

"Harry would have seen the paper eventually. It is time you were inside."

"I know," Caydon said and then he turned to Harry. "I get to spend all summer at Hogwarts," he said, as if Harry did not already know this.

"Are you excited?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Caydon said, then he frowned a little. "But I miss my family."

"Have you seen them lately?"

Caydon shook his head sadly. "Not since my accident." Caydon always referred to the injuries that Lucius had inflicted on him as an "accident".

"I saw Malfoy earlier," Harry said. "Darius was with him."

"Darius is coming back to Hogwarts next year," Snape said. "He is … pleased," Snape's lip curled in disdain. Harry was a bit confused by this, since Snape had liked Darius so well, but he realized that Darius' loyalty to the Malfoys must have been a disappointment to the professor.

"Hey, Harry," Caydon said after a moment, smiling a bit. "I guess that you are sort of like my family now."

Snape frowned at this, but did not correct his son. Harry crouched down so that he was looking Caydon right in the face. "I guess so," he said. "Have a great summer, Caydon. And get well."

Caydon hugged him again. "I will," he said.

Harry stood and looked at Snape, wondering what to say. "You better go," Snape said, not too harshly. "Your friends have already left and you'll miss the train if you stay too long."

"Yeah," Harry said and he got on the train. He found a seat next to a window near Ron and Hermione. As he looked out the window, he could see Snape and Caydon standing on the platform. Caydon was waving at him enthusiastically, but Snape merely looked at Harry, unmoving. Harry thought of how much things had changed since last year. Last year he had hated Snape and had never even considered what the man's personal life or past might be like. He had never known that Snape was Owned or that he had a family. Last year, as Harry had went home, he had been on his way down. With every day, he had become more angry, more hopeless, more depressed. Now, Harry was on his way up and with each day, he gained a little confidence and felt a little more like he could live a normal life.

Harry looked down at them and gave a brief wave as the train began to move. He then turned back to Ron and Hermione with a feeling of contentment such as he hadn't felt in a long while.

* * *

**AN: Once again, I want to thank everyone for reading. If you want to read more about the Owning concept then head on over and check out my story _Owned _which is about Caydon's brother Braedon. **


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